Housekeeping
by procyonlotor
Summary: When one has a mansion, one must also have a maid. "So do I get a sexy uniform, or what?"
1. Eins

Integra took a long, deep puff from her cigar, savoring the smooth taste as she tapped the smoldering end over an already overflowing ashtray. Her spectacles glinted in the afternoon light as she tipped her chin up, enforcing her air of authority over the girl that sat across the massive mahogany desk. She wrinkled her nose imperceptibly at the almost painfully bright shock of electric blue hair that the beaming girl sported.

"So," the imposing woman drawled, smoke rolling from her lips, "you're interested in a job as a maid."

The girl nodded. "Yup,"

Integra began leafing through a stack of papers sitting before her, her eyes flickering up to the prospect before her every now and then. She picked up her quill pen and began scanning through the documents, pausing every now and then to sign her name with an elegant, fluid hand, for the most part ignoring the little female in front of her.

The girl sat quietly, hands folded neatly in her lap, legs crossed, peering curiously around the office with bright, inquisitive eyes.

"How old are you?" Integra abruptly asked in a rather hard tone, pausing from her paperwork long enough to fixate her cold stare on the girl. She looked her up and down, taking note of the way her previously relaxed frame tensed at the question.

"Sixteen." Her reply was clear, and she looked the imposing woman square in the eye, matching her confident stare.

Integra scoffed. Sixteen. Such a young, impressionable age. She may not have spent her teenage years the way most girls did, but that didn't mean she was naïve to teenage behavior. Rebellious, impulsive, irresponsible, and hormonal . None qualities that went over well in the Hellsing manor… particularly hormonal.

"That's awfully young to be applying for such a taxing job," She said carefully. "Especially with schoolwork and a social life to worry about." Integra had never had to worry about either factors, but she pushed that little detail aside.

"I know the implications that go with my age." The girl's even tone suggested she had picked up on what Integra was getting at. She got the feeling that this wasn't the first time that age had been a problem for this particular child. "You needn't worry about school. I'm taking the year off; teaching myself." Integra doubted that was legal. Then again, she doubted that much of what went on inside this organization was legal either.

"If you'd like, I could tell you that I'm really eighteen," she offered with a wily grin after a long pause. "Or twenty-one, if that better suits you." The stern woman couldn't help but smirk back around her cigar. _A bit of a smart-ass, eh? _She mused to herself.

"I'm assuming you know that this job requires discipline and hard work."

A firm nod.

"And you understand the hours—Evenings and mornings, every day."

Another nod.

"Tell me then, what are your qualifications?"

The girl offered a sheepish smile. "Nothing an employer would consider legitimate, I'm afraid."

Hm. She danced around the fact that this would be her first job quite tactfully. "I see."

Integra steepled her slender fingers, taking a moment to inspect the child from behind her spectacles. She had dark hair, not black by any means, but a deep shade of brown, piled in a hasty bun atop her head with a thick fringe of turquoise brushing just past expressive eyebrows. Her eyes drifted down to the girl's, scrutinizing them as though they held all her secrets. Eyes are, after all, the windows to the soul. They were tipped up like a cat's and fanned by short lashes, bright, clear, and curious, with a soft compassion and ease hiding in their depths. Her skin was a summer tan in full bloom, with a spray of freckle-like blemishes not uncommon to those of sixteen, but held soft and glowing with youth. She had high cheekbones and a long, strong nose, speaking of something other than English in her blood. She was taller than average, though not as tall as Integra, and had a thin body that didn't offer much in the way of curves. All in all, she was a pretty girl if you looked at her the right way. Certainly not something you would stop in the streets for, but she had a certain peculiar loveliness that stemmed from an easy smile and a comfort in her own flawed skin.

The girl sat patiently as Integra sized her up, doing her own evaluation of the commanding woman before her. She was beautiful in a cold, harsh, nearly androgynous way, with piercing, pale eyes and corn-silk hair cascading down her back. She might have thought her a princess if it weren't for the cigar that hung from her lower lip and the masculine suit she had donned. She was an extremely impressive figure, and the child couldn't recall ever seeing anyone quite like this woman who reeked of authority and confidence.

In a mutual silence, Integra contemplated her options so far. Sadly enough, a lanky, inexperienced teenager looking for a summertime job was the best prospect they'd had—The Hellsing Organization tried to keep a low-brow civilian profile, to discourage any unwanted curiosity on the public's part. So, they went about finding groundskeepers, maids, cooks and the like from the civilian population. Most of those who answered the wanted ads were either migrant workers who didn't—or wouldn't—speak a word of English, or buxom porcelain skinned women with skirts far too short and stockings far too high. Both were entirely too taxing for Integra's paper thin patience, though Alucard had casually informed his master many a time that he heartily approved of those French maid types.

The girl shifted a bit under Integra's distracted gaze. She could tell this wasn't going as well as one would hope during an interview. She knew that she really wasn't very qualified for the job, but she had thought this to be the sort of workplace that didn't care much as long as the floors were clean and nothing went missing. But the moment she had been greeted at the towering doors by a rather debonair looking butler and escorted down the plush halls to see 'Sir Integra', she got the feeling that she probably looked like a leper applying to work at a king's castle. Her chances seemed to be diminishing by the second… So, she decided firmly, it was time to talk business.

"I'm cheap."

Integra refocused her surprised gaze on the girl, who now suddenly looked as intent as if she were vowing to come in first in the Tour de France.

"Pardon me?" She asked incredulously.

"I said I'm cheap. Really cheap! I'm sixteen—in my mind, four fifty an hour is a fortune, and I work like it's ten fifty an hour." She sounded like a corner prostitute making a proposition. "I'm sharp, and honest. I know my manners and I know how to stay out of my employer's way. Tell me what to do, and I'll get the job done, clean and simple." Now she seemed like she was appealing to some sort of mafia crime lord.

Integra arched an eyebrow, taken aback by this sudden, blunt display of will, yet thoroughly amused as well.

"I'm prepared to bargain, plead, and, if need be… bribe." The look on her face was so intense, so serious, that there was no way it could be taken as anything by humorous. Integra decided to match her open honesty, stifling a bemused little smirk.

"Are you a virgin?" The blonde woman suddenly asked in all seriousness.

"No." she blurted without skipping a beat.

"Are you a Protestant?"

"Protestant reformed. That counts, right?"

Integra frowned. "Hmm. I suppose it's better than Catholic." Anything was better than Catholic. "Tell me, what is your name, child?"

The girl was thoroughly confused, but could only hope blindly that things were beginning to look in her favor. "My friends call me Cricket, but my employers call me Jane Moore."

Integra leaned back in her oversized chair, grinding her used up cigar into the overloaded ashtray. Perhaps she was just too exhausted to go through another interview, or perhaps she just appreciated how honest the girl was. Either way, the position of maid had just been officially filled.

"Well, Miss Moore," Integra sighed as she stood, "welcome to the Hellsing Organization."

Integra wearily wished she had another cigar as her newest employee, Jane Moore, beamed brighter than any headlights ever could. A vague little voice in the back of her head told her that this was, perhaps, one of the most foolhardy decisions she'd ever made.


	2. Dul

**I was shooting for something a little less… bland. Ah, to hell with it. If bland I am, then bland I shall be.**

/

Public transportation.

It doesn't matter if you're in New York, Hong Kong, Chicago, or London, it's all the same. All across the civilized world, it is common knowledge that public transportation is a synonym for the burning pits of hell.

None were quite as aware of this as Cricket.

Standing rigidly in a very uncomfortable position between what seemed to be a chronic masturbator and a rather shady 'salesman', clutching onto a loop that hung from the ceiling, she said prayer after silent prayer that she would make it out of the tube free of any emotional scarring. The air was thick and steamy with the London morning humidity, making the already stuffy train drip with condensation, and it felt like she was in the heaving belly of some sort of terrible snake. The teenager tried to draw herself in as tightly as she could, to avoid so much as brushing one of the many sweating, panting businessmen and women that were packed all around her, keeping a wary eye on one rather corpulent fellow to her left that appeared to be attempting to break a world record for how much one man could sweat.

This was how her twenty minute trip in the tube was spent, and when the train finally crawled to a stop at her destination, Jane tried to maneuver her way out the doors as quickly as she could without bumping into any sweat-soaked chests. She herself could feel a slimy film coating the small of her back and the crook of her neck, and she hoped to the sweet Lord and Mother Mary that it would dry by the time she made it to the gates of the Hellsing manor. Looking and smelling like you just ran a 10k marathon next to a homeless man is not exactly the impression one wants to make on their first day of work.

Walter watched with a thin frown as Integra took a fat cigar from its case, leaning back in her stately office chair with a deep, exasperated sigh. He set the tray he had been holding on the desk that was littered with paperwork, retrieving a silver lighter from his pocket and lighting his mistress's cigar before pouring her a cup of steaming tea. "I do wish that you would try and cut down on all those cigars, Sir Integra. They aren't good for your health," he commented in a grandfatherly tone, placing the lighter back where it belonged. Integra shot him a narrow look before eyeing the tea appreciatively, picking up the cup and blowing delicately at the coils of steam, thus effectively ignoring the butler. If it were anyone but Walter, she would have given them a sound tongue-lashing and promptly dismissed them from her service for daring to chastise her.

"Not that I don't trust your judgment, Sir…" he began casually, adjusting his manacle, "but I do wish that you might have consulted me before hiring the new maid."

Integra looked at him from over the rim of her glasses, sipping the warm liquid. "It was my choice to make." She answered firmly.

Walter nodded. "It is indeed… I was simply implying that I'd have liked to see who I am to work with." He replied, referring silently to the last hired hand, a portly Hispanic woman who didn't quite grasp Walter's specific instructions to NOT go into the basement under any circumstances. Alucard didn't take too kindly to being awakened at twelve in the afternoon by the scent of lemon Pledge slathered over his coffin.

Integra frowned at the memory, nodding slightly. "Hn…I suppose you're right."

She sighed, taking another sip. She was beginning to worry that hiring this girl on a whim was going to lead to some very…stressful situations.

Walter noted the grimace on her face and cleared his throat politely. "So, what is this new employee's name?" He questioned, bringing Integra out of her thoughts.

"Jane," She answered in a stronger voice, straightening herself. "Her name is Jane."

The butler nodded in approval. Jane was a nice, simple name, easy to remember. "If I may ask, what is she like?" When he had brought her in to see Integra previously, he hadn't paid much attention to her. Though he was much too well-mannered to say anything, he inwardly hoped that she was one of those sorts that wore kitten heels and frilly little skirts.

"Well," Integra thought back to the interview from a few nights before. "She's terribly young. Sharp, but inexperienced, and plain." She said thoughtfully.

Walter sulked ever so slightly, giving a little sigh. Plain… Oh well. Perhaps he would get lucky with the next maid.* "Young? How young?" He asked idly, silently lamenting.

"Sixteen."

Walter's eyes snapped up, full of disbelief. "_Sixteen?_" He protested doubtfully.

"Yes, Walter, sixteen." Integra repeated with some annoyance. "Remember, when I was sixteen I was running the Hellsing Organization effectively on my own, and had been for some time." She clipped with a bit of indignity.

The butler bowed his head humbly, recovering from his surprise. "Yes, of course, Sir Integra. I only meant that she should be in school, yes?" He said, smoothly saving face.

Integra snorted. He was a quick old man, indeed. "Don't concern yourself over such matters. Leave me now, she'll be arriving shortly and I have work to do…"

It was then that she just so happened to shift in her seat and glance out the window, and right on cue, the gangly subject of their conversation appeared not fifteen feet from the gate.

"Speak of the devil," Integra muttered with an arched eyebrow, finishing the last of her tea and placing her cigar back between her lips. She turned her stare back to Walter. "Well? Go let her in, before the poor thing passes out from heat stroke."

When Walter finally made his way to the door and opened it to let the child in, he almost slammed it shut again. An unearthly shade of blue, brighter than before assaulted his eyes, and it was more than a few moments before he was able to look at anything else. When he finally regained his composure and managed to politely usher the girl in, he couldn't help but notice that she distinctly resembled a homeless cat, with her disheveled hair and clothes in disarray.

"I know, I look like a douche bag on wheels. Downright unholy weather." She fanned herself with what looked like a bright orange flyer, catching her ragged breath. Walter was silent, looking at the girl almost suspiciously. She certainly looked sixteen—Strange hair color, tight black jeans, cell phone bulging out of her back pocket.

"You must be Jane." He said, trying to keep his voice from sounding unimpressed.

She boldly offered her hand for him to shake, beaming. "Jane's my payroll name. You can call me Cricket. Who're you?"

Walter tentatively shook her hand. It seemed nicknames had changed quite a bit since he was a teenager.

"I am Walter." He didn't feel the need to tell her more. "I'll be your manager of sorts." He said curtly, motioning for Jane… Cricket, he thought to himself, to follow him. Cricket… how absurd. Integra had said she was sharp, but so far she seemed about as sharp as a butter knife.

It was nearing eleven, and Walter had shown Cricket all of the Hellsing manor that she need concern herself with, pointing out her duties along the way. Her display at the doorway had worried him; she had appeared to be a lazy, daft, and rather rude sort of person. Yet, as they had traversed the mansion he found her to be really quite pleasant company. She had listened intently when he gave her instructions, didn't babble, and was calm and collected. By the time he had finished showing her around Walter decided that he approved of this Cricket character's manners, though he also concluded that she was a little… off. But her oddness paled in comparison to that of, well, any of Hellsing's other employees.

"After I show you the supply closet, you'll be done for the morning." Walter said as he led her to the very back of the mansion.

"So I'm only on the first floor, then," Cricket drawled from behind him. Walter nodded, pulling a ring of keys from his pocket as they approached the closet door. She peeked down the left hallway, noticing how the elegant, lavish decorations seemed to suddenly end, though the hall didn't. Unadorned stone walls seemed to grow closer together; darker, more dismal, more foreboding. At the end of the tunnel was a steel door, set in place by impossibly heavy bolts.

"Walter," Cricket piped curiously. "What's down there?" She thrust her thumb towards the mysterious hall.

He turned, following her questioning gesture down the hall… and straight towards the basement door. He now had to make a decision: Speak casually of it, claiming it as storage in hopes of dissolving any interest she might have, or risk heightening her curiosity with vicious threats.

He had always preferred threats.

Slowly, the butler drew himself up and turned to her with an electric stare. He wasn't much taller than she, but somehow he managed to loom over her like an ominous raincloud, his dignified demeanor suddenly turning frighteningly calm, almost dangerously so.

"That area is absolutely restricted, no exceptions, ever." His voice was unsettling…extremely unsettling. "Just remember, Jane… Curiosity killed the cat." He threatened subtly.

Cricket stared back in stunned silence, the wheels whirling in her brain, before something almost audibly clicked.

"_Ooohhh_," Walter didn't like the deadpan look on her face. "I get it, I get it. It's like your porn dungeon, right?"

The butler blanched.

"Must be something a little kinkier than Hustler down there if you need a steel door that big."

***Yeah. I know. Sexual innuendo. I swear I didn't mean it like that when I wrote it. **


	3. Trois

**I got my own character a little out of character here. How the hell do you do that? **

**By the way, thank you to my three precious, precious reviewers. Stop, you dogs you, I'm blushing. **

**Edit: Made Walter less of an old pervert. Left out that whole "Don't worry Seras I'll help you get off the streets" fiasco. Nobody's reading this though because who cares about edits? I sure don't. **

Seras trudged up the basement stairs. Bloodshot eyes shadowed by dark circles greeted Walter, who just so happened to be passing by when the draculina pushed open the door with heavy arms. "Now now, Miss Victoria, sunset is still hours away. You won't be any good to Sir Integra exhausted." He tsked, wagging a bony finger at her.

"Hi, Walter…I know, I know… it's still just so…weird! You know, sleeping in a coffin during the day, drinking blood…" She trailed behind as he continued on down the hallway, her shoulders sagging and her face downcast.

"Or not drinking blood," he commented dryly, stepping into the laundry room. "I daresay a vampire that refuses to drink blood is stranger by far than one who does."

Seras huffed, sticking out her little pointed tongue before perching herself atop the dryer, remaining uncharacteristically quiet. Baby blue eyes followed idly as Walter proceeded to turn the washer on, pouring in blue liquid soap before retrieving the laundry from a white basket and placing it into the noisy machine. Seras watched the sudsy fabric whirl round and round as the butler straightened with a grimace, glancing briefly down at the face of his watch. Both hands pointed proudly south as the contraption ticked away.

"Off you go then, its six thirty. Housekeeping will be here any moment." He said as he shooed the confused vampire off the dryer.

"Housekeeping?" She repeated with a little frown. Her ample assets bounced dangerously as she hopped off the machine, the teensy uniform that bravely restrained her massive bosom coming precariously close to bursting at the seams. All this was not missed by Walter, who valiantly fought any impure thoughts from invading his mind, being the gentlemen that he was.

"…Walter?" Seras asked with unease, having noticed the struggle that was evident on his translucent face. Snapping out of his righteous inner battle, he redirected his eyes to her questioning face, retrieving his mind from the gutter.

"What was that, my dear?" He sighed wearily as he picked up a nearby basket of clean, folded clothes as they exited the laundry room.

"I said, what do you mean by housekeeping? Did we get a new maid?" She sounded hopeful. Seras was a social butterfly—She was always thrilled to have new people around, especially since company usually consisted of either lewd French mercenaries or her mischievous (and sometimes equally lewd) master.

Walter groaned, glancing sideways at her. "We've been through this, Seras. You aren't allowed to leave the basement when the maids are here."

"We **are** getting a new maid!" She gasped, eyes sparkling in the purest form of excitement, all hints of her previous downtrodden mood evaporating at the suggestion of a brand new companion.

Walter shook his head, murmuring something about childish vampires under his breath.

"What's she like? What's her name? She is a she, right? I mean I guess that there are male housekeepers out there but usually they're girls, which is good for me because the only girl—err, woman—that's ever around is Sir Integra and she's hardly a woman… Wait, no! I mean, she's not a man either she's just not really very feminine…! That is to say that she's not like other ladies, not that she isn't lady-like—"

Seras's giddy, nervous babbling was cut short by the tell-tale song of the doorbell drifting through the halls. "There now, here she is. Off you go! You know you're not allowed to fraternize with the hired help." Walter directed, giving the draculina a little push towards the basement.

"So she IS a she!" The blonde rejoiced, prancing off down the hallway as she happily chattered to herself, turning back to look towards the entrance every now and then. The butler briefly watched her curvaceous form bounce as she flitted away. Try as he might, Walter couldn't help but mentally thank Integra for having such brilliant taste in uniforms.

Finishing his trek to the front hall, he straightened his waistcoat, adjusted his manacle, and opened the door. Cricket stood before him in the evening light looking much the same as she had that morning, pleasant smile and all. "Ah, Miss Jane," Walter said politely. "Please do come in."

"Walter, I don't even have a driver's license. You don't have to call me miss, or Jane," She jested lightly, stepping inside. She looked this way and that as he shut the door with a roll of his eyes. "Is there by chance somebody else here with you?" She questioned.

"Why no, it's just me," He replied coolly. "What makes you ask?"

"I heard someone. Like a girl talking or giggling or something," She surveyed the foyer once more, half expecting to see some woman round the corner and greet her in the same high-pitched, girly voice she had heard from outside the door.

"Hmm, that's odd. I didn't hear a thing." He hummed nonchalantly.

Cricket studied the elderly butler, slightly perplexed, but mostly suspicious. "Huh. Odd indeed."

He cleared his throat. "Well, I must prepare dinner. Go ahead and start on the windows in the halls. If you need anything, I'll be in the kitchen; otherwise just come find me before you leave for the evening." Walter diverted.

She perked at the new mission. "Aye aye, Captain," She saluted, her previous ponderings effectively swept away.

"Good." Walter said with a half-smile, nodding courteously before making his leave.

At this point, he was feeling quite pleased with himself. He'd managed to dismiss Seras's incessant noise, for the moment at least. He was sure that once she found out that the new maid was so young, she'd be even more difficult to contain. Though he did pity the young woman a bit; she hadn't so much as seen a 'normal' female even remotely close to her own tender age since joining Hellsing. Still, they didn't need more people knowing about their little secret in the basement than was absolutely necessary (and by little secret Walter meant vampires, not pornography, he added indignantly to himself).

/

"Yo, Captain!" Cricket called, walking into the kitchen with a towel tossed haphazardly over her shoulder. A small clock above the stove told her that it was just about eight twenty. She'd been working her flat ass off for the past few hours, and she wanted to get to the bus stop before the last drops of light were squeezed from of the sky.

"Captain!" She yelled again, finding that Walter was nowhere in sight.

"Walter? Are you here?"

Still no reply.

Where could he have gone? Perhaps, she thought to herself, he'd slunk off to his "special room". This theory seemed plausible, so she decided to go to the basement vault and look for him.

Half a dozen hallways later, Cricket was standing before the cold steel door. She rapped the metallic surface with her knuckles, the sound reverberating down the empty hall. "Waaalterrrrr…" She drawled out, leaning against the door. She waited. After a minute of no reply, she knocked a little harder. It was only after the door gave a low, groaning creak and shifted slightly that she realized it was unlocked and cracked open.

Cricket vaguely recalled Walter's warning. 'Remember Jane, curiosity killed the cat.'

"Good thing I'm a Cricket, and not a cat." She muttered before mustering up what little courage she had. She pushed the monstrous door aside, staring down the dark tunnel. "Alright, alright, don't pussy out now. The worst thing that could be down there is a crypt of decapitated young girls that went missing in the '80s…"She paused. "…Or an old, leathery naked guy…" A shudder of horror rattled her spine.

Sucking in a deep breath of bravery and steeling her nerves, she took a blind step into the darkn-

"MMphaw!"

Before she could register what had happened, Cricket felt her face smash into something firm and large. It was a long time before she realized that this 'something' she had bumped into was not a something at all, but a pair of extremely large, extremely perky breasts, encased in an impossibly tight blue button up shirt. Taken aback by the sheer mass of the two planet-sized orbs, Cricket almost failed to notice the girl that was attached to them.

Wide, sky-blue eyes stared up in surprise at the teenager who currently stood staring back with a rather blank look on her face. If it weren't for Walter's voice behind the woman, they may have continued gaping at each other for God knows how long.

"Seras, whatever are you doing? Hurry now, we must be quick, or the maid will spot us…"

He trailed off when he reached the top of the stairs, discovering that the maid had indeed spotted them.

Suddenly, in a true act of delayed reaction, Cricket threw her arms up and let out a distinctly squawk-like noise, grappling with her own feet for a moment before regaining ground. When she finally had safe footing, she peered cautiously at the duo, which emerged from the stairs into the full light. Now, she could see the woman clearly.

She wouldn't have called her a woman, really, but not a girl either. She had eyes like two crystal pools, brimming over with expression, and golden-honey hair that had a slight natural orange tint. The tousled spikes framed a round babydoll face full of vulnerability and emotion. She was a cute, sweet looking young lady, almost an exact opposite of Integra's icy beauty.

But what Cricket noticed the most was her attire, or more accurately, the lack thereof. She was clad in an azure uniform that looked at the very least two sizes too small, and her chest looked as if it might burst free at any moment. All sorts of snaps and pockets adorned the vaguely militant outfit, with thigh-high black stockings, white gloves, and combat boots topping the ensemble off.

"Are you alright?" The woman asked, now looking more worried than surprised. Cricket recognized her girlish British voice as the one she had heard earlier, the same one that Walter 'didn't hear'.

Nodding, the teenager dusted herself off, not that it did any good for her truly hectic appearance. "Hey, yeah, I'm okay. Sorry for crushing your boobs with my face." She apologized sincerely.

Seras turned a light pink at the child's blunt remark. "O-oh, it's alright," She giggled timidly.

It had been so long since Seras had talked to another girl that she'd nearly forgotten how. Her previous impatient excitement had turned into the same shyness you see from a little girl at the playground of a new school.

Walter, who had been standing silent beside Seras, cleared his throat and narrowed his eyes in a rather deadly manner, honing in on Cricket. What was it going to take to keep these damn maids out of the basement? "Miss Jane…" he began, his voice a seething hiss, "did I _not_ tell you that the basement is strictly off limits?"

The lanky teenager stared up at him with an owlish expression.

"You deliberately disobeyed me. Your actions are going to have serious repercussions."* He growled sternly.

Cricket continued to stare at him, and then, without skipping a single beat, inquired this: "Did you bring a hooker to work?"

For the second time that day, Walter blanched. This time, Seras joined him.

"_You think I'm a prostitute?"_

***Sounds like your dad, don't he?**

**Guess who's gonna be in the next chapter? **

**Heheh. That's right.**

**Alucard.**


	4. Empat

**The point of this was to highlight the contrast between Cricket's life and Alucard's. That's why it's all boring and stuff. Boring as in no sex, fluff, crack, or other assorted humor. Yeah, that's right, I know what you fanfictioneers want, and damn it, I'm not giving it to you. Not yet, at least. I'll cave eventually.**

The moon was full, the sky was black, and there wasn't a star in sight. It was the kind of night when strange, dark beings crawled from the shadows to torment those who worshipped the sun, when evil things ran rampant through the hills in search of lone stragglers who's souls might serve as their next meal. Alucard looked back fondly on the times when he too prowled the darkness, frolicking in the blood of innocents and preying of the virgin daughters of his enemies.

But alas, he lamented, those days were dead. Now he hunted not for vulnerable, lost little lambs, but for those strange, dark beings, the very creatures he once commanded as king. The years shackled to the bowels of the Hellsing manor had turned him from a power the likes of which the world had never seen to something more akin to a pet, a tiger forcibly tamed for the good of the British crown.

He hated it. He truly did. But there was nothing more he could do than bide his time until the opportune moment finally arrived. He had waited for hundreds of years already, and he could wait for thousands more. Yes, it was all just a matter of patience, a simple waiting game. He could and would outlast this wretched van Hellsing clan that held him in slavery.

Emerging from a little house edging an equally little forest, Seras let out a woeful sigh, hoisted her massive weapon higher, and trudged after what she suspected to be her master. After a few moments, she sighed again, even more heavily.

"Why, police girl," Alucard's low, smoldering voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. "You look so depressed."

She tried not to shudder, knowing that it would only please him and encourage the vampire to tease her more. His tricks and illusions made poor Seras terribly nervous, and he knew it well.

"The new maid thought I was a prostitute.." She explained dejectedly with another sigh. Deep, rumbling chuckles encircled her.

"Hmm, I wonder what might give someone that impression…" The voice drawled. The draculina turned pink, huffing and stomping slightly as she walked on. "I wish you wouldn't just float around like that, Master." She pouted. Somewhere off in the distance, her sharp ears picked up on the vacant howl of a stray ghoul. She was grateful for the distraction from her master's taunting and chased towards the sound eagerly, letting her troubled mind shift into a more primal state as she hunted the shambling husk of what was once a man.

From somewhere above, Alucard watched his little fledgling as she slunk about the forest, his mind drifting. He was beginning to grow bored with these games of catch that Integra sent him out on. Ghouls were hardly worthy of being called prey, as dull and slow as the rotting brutes were, and he spent the majority of his nights lounging about, picking them off lazily one by one. Integra was fully aware that it was pointless to send out her most powerful weapon to dispose of something that a handful of soldiers could take care of, but she also knew that if she kept her vampire chained up in the basement without something to occupy him, the consequences would be more than severe. Alucard knew this too, and used it to toy endlessly with his master, taunting her with the idea that he may very well decide that he'd grown much too restless and go on some sort of violent rampage throughout London to satiate his bloodlust. He did so love to play on her already frayed nerves.

Smirking, his thoughts traveled back to what Seras had said. So they had a new maid, eh? Of course Integra wouldn't inform him on such a matter…Especially after what he did to the last one. His master had been furious when she went downstairs for dinner and found the old woman's pale corpse wondering about the halls, empty of blood and bones crushed. He had innocently claimed that it was simply instinct; the maid had descended into the lion's den of her own accord. She might have even made it back upstairs alive if she hadn't disturbed the sleeping lion, too. Integra was not at all impressed with this explanation, and had informed him that the lion would not be leaving his now lemon Pledge scented den for quite some time.

Alucard wondered vaguely if this new maid would be as homely as the last. Pretty girls always tasted better. Once, years ago when Integra was no older than seventeen, she had naively hired a very beautiful, very virginal young woman to serve as housekeeper. The little thing had the loveliest brown eyes and the softest blonde hair. Corrupting her hadn't taken longer than a week—A few seductive words, a few teasing touches, and she couldn't give it up fast enough. He remembered how her delicate, unspoiled youth had tasted so sweet on his lips, and how her blood had been even better.

After the girl turned up dead one morning, Integra had made a point of not employing any more pretty virgins. It really was quite disappointing. Though, perhaps she'd changed her mind, after he casually commented to her one day that if he couldn't have a new playmate he'd be more than happy to settle with his beloved master. He smirked and chuckled as he recalled how she had looked up from her paperwork and told him just as casually that if he ever dared to touch her she would promptly relieve the vampire of one of his favorite appendages.

/

Somewhere in London, in a plain middleclass neighborhood, among dozens of plain little houses, sat Cricket's fittingly plain homestead. It was a modest house, arguably large, with a green lawn and purple tulips springing up under the windows. Inside the living room, a flatscreen TV displayed a dramatic couple grasping onto each other with tears in their eyes, while the clanging of metal pans from the kitchen drowned out their tender words. Cricket sat at the little table while eating some old take-out, switching her attentions from the couple on TV to her mother who searched endlessly for a certain black pot.

"So, honey," the woman tittered, emerging victoriously from behind the counter with the blasted pot in her grip. "How did your first day of work go?"

"Pretty good," Cricket replied absently. "I thought one of the employees was a hooker, but it turns out she just has a huge rack."

"That's good, dear." She sang back, banging around some more in the cupboards. "Is your boss nice?"

A dog-like shake of the head tossed back blue bangs so that the teenager could watch as her mother retrieved a dusty bag of flour. "No," she said with a smile. "She's not nice, but its okay. I don't think you can be nice when you run a place like that."

Her mother turned and gave her a look, frowning. It seemed out of place on her normally ditzy demeanor. "I still don't like not even knowing what this Hellsing business does. And having you go there every day by yourself."

Cricket played with her noodles, twirling her chopsticks absently. It had taken a lot of convincing for her parents to let her get a job, much less a full-time one they knew nothing about. "Don't worry, mom. They're good people." She looked her straight in the eye, voice firm and full of sincerity and intensity. "Nobody there is going to hurt me."

After a few moments, the woman's face softened, and she released a long, almost sorrowful sigh. "I just worry about you, sweet pea."

There was a long pause as she stood silent in thought.

*"Maybe I'll bake her some cookies."

"….What?"

"Your boss. Cookies always make people nicer. Oh! I'll use those cute little smiley face sprinkles!"

"Mom, oh my God, no. No!"

"Do you think I should get a card, too?"

"_No!"_

"You're right. A thank you note would be more appropriate. I saw the cutest little stationary shop a f—"

"If you send my boss thank you cookies I swear to God I'll put rat poison in your coffee."

"Oh, pish. What was her name again? Ingrid? Integrity? Oh, oh! Since I'm already making them I'll save some cookies for your hooker friend, too!"

***Raise your hand if you've ever had a conversation like this with your mom. **


	5. Tallimat

**My shoulders hurts. As soon as I win the lottery, I'm getting a personal masseuse to follow me around 24/7.**

"I want a girrrl with a short skirt and a looooong… loooooong… jackeeeett…!"*

Seras peeked tentatively around the corner, watching the skinny girl as she swayed to an unheard beat, armed with a broom and sweeping away while bouncing the rubber toe of her scuffed and well worn Chuck Taylors. A pair of little white buds plugged her ears, the cords dangling down and attaching to some sort of music player in the back pocket of tight jeans. Her head bopped to a rhythm that Seras could just barely make out. "She's touring the facility – and picking up slack…" Cricket sang to herself in a voice that that she didn't find half bad, though it wasn't half good either. The blonde giggled to herself; this girl had to have some of the most unique facial expressions she'd ever seen. Without any warning, Cricket did a little half slide and looked up and directly at Seras, causing her to squeak in alarm and give a little jump.

"Ohhhhh, stalking me now, eh?" She said in a remarkably calm fashion, wiggling her eyebrows as she pulled out the blaring earbuds.

The draculina sputtered and flushed, embarrassed that she was caught staring. "Ah, I'm so-sorry, I didn't mean to be rude! I was just walking to…t-to…" She couldn't think of a single thing that she might need to do upstairs.

The youth cracked a grin and paused the music. "Pssht, it's nothing to get your panties in a twist about. It's not like I was in the shower or something." Seras smiled back a little. It had been close to a week since Cricket's first day, and she was just beginning to get used to her rather odd quips. After much pleading and promising, she had convinced Integra and Walter to let her 'assist' the maid. She had never met anyone at Hellsing who was so… so… unladylike. At first she had been shy towards the teenager, unsure of how to approach her, but her friendliness and acceptance made it hard not to talk to her.

"Hey, sorry about mistaking you for a pole dancer," Cricket said apologetically after Seras remained quiet. "It's just that, you know, your rack is like **this**"—she made a motion like she was cupping giant breasts over her own sparse chest—"and where I come from, if you have boobs like that then you're probably selling tricks." She finished with a solemn nod. Seras blushed ever so slightly, not sure of what 'selling tricks' meant, but she was pretty sure she got the jist of it.

Coughing a bit uncomfortably, she thought fast and changed the subject. "So, um, where exactly are you from?" She asked, leaning against the wall with her hands linked behind her back. Seras had been wondering about her accent for a while, anyway. Cricket continued sweeping, adding to an isolated little pile of dust and dirt. Her bright eyes seemed to grow brighter yet. "A hop and a skip across the pond—Good ol' America," she replied.

"You're from the United States?" Seras questioned, her curiosity piqued. She'd heard lots of things about the United States, but had never actually met anyone from the famed rebel country. Cricket nodded, flashing a smile. "The one and only."

"So, um, what's it like?"

She thought for a moment before answering. "Loud, fat, and it smells like pigs."

Seras giggled, and then before she could hold it in, yawned. She gave a little 'oh!', delicately covering her mouth and feeling very rude. "Didn't sleep well?" Cricket asked, unceremoniously sweeping the offending pile into a nearby dustpan. The little blond vampire hesitated for a moment before nodding numbly. "Not a wink…" She sighed, glad that she didn't really have to lie. "I, uhm, work nights." Cricket nodded in empathetic understanding.

"So what exactly do you do around here, anyway?" She asked as they headed to the supply closet.

Seras answered quickly and rather tightly. "I'm a soldier,"

The teen turned to walk backwards alongside the taller woman, her eyebrows going up in surprise. "_You're_ a soldier? What, do you have a machine gun hidden in your cleavage?"

She huffed, putting her hands on her hips. "_No_. I actually have my own custom weapon."

"Oh yeah?" Cricket gave a little snort that suggested she didn't quite believe her. "Bet you've got a missile launcher custom engineered for your left bra cup too, huh?"

Seras flushed, resisting the urge to stamp her foot. "I do too have my own gun! Walter took the liberty of making it just for me," She huffed, her voice bordering on defensive.

"Alright then, show me!" Cricket teased in a playful, if not juvenile manner.

Seras fumed, torn between proving herself and obeying Sir Integra, who would doubtless be more than a little angry if she found out Seras had shown the maid her gun.

"But if you don't want to…" Cricket yawned dramatically, glancing sidelong at the obviously agitated blonde. "Don't worry about it, people lie all the time. We're only human." She flashed a little grin, goading her.

Seras narrowed her eyes, making up her mind firmly. She for one **wasn't** human, and she was going to prove that she wasn't making things up either!

/

"Holy crap."

Seras tipped her chin up with just a little bit of pride at Cricket's obviously impressed look. She stared wide-eyed at the massive, destructive thing that Seras held, running her fingers over its cool edges. It had to be as long as she was, and twice as heavy.

"I sure hope you are a soldier, because if civilians can carry around something like this…"

Seras gave an especially innocent smile. "Told you so."

"How do you carry that thing? You're holding it like it's a feather, when it's more like a freaking ship," Cricket protested, staring in a fascinated manner at the draculina, who hesitated.

"Oh, it, um, doesn't weigh that much without the shells…" She said, putting it back on the wall next to dozens of other lethal looking instruments. "We should go. Sir Integra wouldn't like us being in here."

She followed Cricket out of the metallic room, flicking off the light and firmly closing the door. In truth, she wasn't really as worried about Sir Integra as she was about the sudden spike of energy that she felt when they'd entered the armory. It was the kind of strange, dark power that belonged to her master alone, and the last thing she wanted was for him to get curious and investigate what Seras was doing in the armory so late in the morning.

"Gun my ass. That was a canon." Cricket said decisively, shaking her head and bringing back Seras's attention. "Why do you need a canon like that, anyway? Or any of those things in that room?"

Out in the light of the hallway, the sun suddenly seemed ten times brighter than before making it very hard to think, and she couldn't very well say that Hellsing was an agency dedicated to the eradication of vampires. "I think I should be going now…" She blurted, trying not to let her exhaustion and panic seep into her voice. It took effort to keep the telepathic link between her master and herself shut off, and she felt too tired to maintain it for much longer. Cricket nodded pleasantly, dropping the subject easily. "Sure thing. See you later."

Seras smiled gratefully and turned to leave. Just before the blonde could round the corner, Cricket flashed a little smirk and called out smoothly, "By the way, nice guns."

/

Seras finally stepped into her bedroom, giving a heavy, relieved sigh at the cool darkness. She wished that she could just tell the teenager what she really was. She tiptoed to her coffin, trying not to do anything that might possibly disturb her sleeping master, who unbeknownst to her was already well awake and in the mood to have a bit of fun with his fledgling.

"Up rather late, aren't we?"

The little vampiress almost jumped out of her undead skin when she heard her master's silky baritone in her mind. She spun around, her head racing as she tried to think of a plausible excuse. His red eyes burned in the darkness like two smoldering cigarettes, piercing through her as though she were made of soft butter. Yet she knew that he wasn't physically in the room: Just another talent of his that made her anxious.

"Oh, Master! I was… just…" She thought as fast as she could, which wasn't exactly record breaking speed.

Alucard graciously answered for her. "Off playing with the maid."

She froze for a few long seconds before slumping down to sit on her own coffin in defeat. "Yes," She mumbled, hanging her head. Seras didn't want him even knowing that they had a maid, much less that she liked her. But even if they didn't have a telepathic connection he would have been able to sense her feelings; Seras was as transparent as a sheet of paper.

"Hmmm… You look so tired, little fledgling…" He hummed, his devilish smirk faint but visible in the darkness. It made him look like the Cheshire cat, the way he purred and grinned at her.

"You can't perform your duties if you're so exhausted," Came his smooth drawl, watching as she opened the lid to her coffin, trying ineffectively to ignore him. There was nothing more amusing than toying with his so easily flustered police girl.

"Perhaps I ought to have a stern talk with this new maid…" Alucard watched with pleasure as Seras shot up, her face even paler than it should've been. "…about keeping you up so late."

His voice dropped low and dark. "After all, I do so want to get to know her. She seems like such a _sweet _little thing…"

Seras hated that he knew just the right buttons to push. Her usual pallor turned to a red glow as she pointed a defensive finger at the source of his voice. "Master, you leave her alone!" She cried, her stance bravely rigid. "She's just a child! She doesn't deserve to have you torment her!" Seras wasn't sure if she was pleading with or threatening him. Her master's eyes glowed hotter in the gloom.

"Torment? Why, you make it sound as though she wouldn't enjoy it too, police girl." The last words were taunting, challenging her to do anything to stop him. Alucard knew that she wouldn't.

Seras sputtered and choked in frustration, wanting to say something, anything, but she knew just as well as he that it didn't matter what she said. She was his fledgling, his underling, his inferior, a mere kitten next to a lion. The great Nosferatu basked in her realization of just how weak she was compared to him.

A low laugh rolled from the darkness. "Rest well, police girl." And then he was gone, leaving her to sit with her anxiety and fears, knowing that she was utterly powerless.

***Ten points to anyone who can guess what song this is.**


	6. Sita

**This one's short. It's like the dwarf of chapters.**

**Oh, you lovely people you, I just want to give you all quick and non-homosexual kisses. Thank you for reviewing. That's right, I'm talking to you—Yes, you. **

**And you over there—The one who hasn't reviewed but is thinking about it. I see you. Review and I'll give you quick, non-homosexual kisses too. **

Cricket slid across the polished wooden floor on mismatched socks, a colorful blur humming a nonsensical song about the first ever paycheck in her career at the Hellsing Organization. "First paaaaycheck, got my first paaaaaaycheck—Two hundred dollas fo' my college fu-uuund…" It would have been more than two hundred dollars, but she had been distracted by a dog chewing its own tail while washing the windows and tripped, breaking what turned out to be a very expensive vase.

Now Cricket was half dancing, half skating down the halls of the Hellsing manor towards the supply closet, where she had dumped her shoes beforehand. As Walter had learned earlier in the week, Cricket was not fond of shoes, and whenever he wasn't looking they were immediately stowed away inside the closet so she could run around in her socks. Her defense was that shoes would only track more dirt and other weird things from the train on the floor, but the butler suspected that she just liked sliding around on the polished wood. In truth, he was absolutely right.

Tonight was a cloudy night, and the hallways were just as dark as the sky. For some reason, there weren't any lights in any of the halls; it was as though Integra preferred it as black as possible. Cricket didn't care, though. The moon was full and bright, as it had been for several days, and it gave off just enough of a glow that she could see down the window-lined passages. It was by this moonlight that when she was pulling on her shoes in the closet she was able to see that the door to the basement had been left ajar.

She really should have been suspicious. After that little fiasco involving Walter and Seras, she had been given a strict chewing-out from Sir Integra, and the vault had remained tightly locked without exception. Therefore, it should have been strange that tonight it was simply left open. But Cricket was on a financial high, and feeling especially daring decided that it would be quite an adventure to explore the forbidden basement. After all, the protagonist never dies doing something adventurous, and she figured that she was rightly the protagonist of her own life.

So, without any further thought, she slipped between the door and the wall and strolled down into the unknown.

Now, had she been in a more rational state, Cricket might have noted the many problems involved with this plan beforehand. For example, she had no means of light, and neither did the basement. She also had to be at the bus stop in just a few minutes, or else she'd be stuck there in the dark for another quarter of an hour.

But, thanks to the brain-numbing effects of combined boldness and money, Cricket rather stupidly assumed that everything would just work itself out.

And, truth be told, everything might have just worked itself out perfectly, though not for Cricket. Lounging in a throne-like chair at the end of the winding corridor, a monster sat brooding stormily. It was pitch black outside; his turn to awaken. But here he sat, waiting for Walter to return with the blood bags, not even aloud to feed himself anymore. He was hungry, and it made his already aggressive demeanor all the more threatening. He thrummed his gloved fingers on the arm of the chair, the other hand propping up his head as a rumble of irritation escaped from within his chest. He could hear Walter tromping all over the mansion upstairs, and the old butler seemed to be purposefully taking as long as possible to finally approach the basement door. If only that damned maid wouldn't work so late, he could roam freely and at the very least retrieve his own blood.

Yes… everything _might_ have worked out. Alucard _might _have had the pleasure of tasting hot, pumping blood fresh from the source for the first time in months. Cricket _might_ have discovered Hellsing's most lethal weapon, then embarked on a grand romantic adventure with the vampire hunting organization. And Integra _might_ not have been further disturbed for the rest of the evening.

If only Cricket had watched where she was going, and not tripped when she missed a stair, thundering down their remaining brethren to land at the bottom with an audible flop, anything _might_ have happened.

If only.

Even with all his supernatural talents and dark powers, Alucard was still as surprised as anyone else would've been when instead of the crisp butler, bearing blood bags, he saw a teenage girl come crashing down the steps to land sprawled out in a rather acrobatic position before him. She looked straight at him with raised eyebrows from her new post, appearing only mildly surprised.

After many long moments of silent staring from both parties, the girl said plainly, "Ouch."

Slowly picking herself up off the floor without so much as a groan, she dusted off her jeans. Straightening she glanced again at the vampire, whose genuine surprise kept him as silent as a dead man should've been. She was not seeing a vampire, or a dead man. As her feeble human sight adjusted to the dark, all she made out were long, inky tendrils that fell freely into sharp scarlet eyes that burned with something she couldn't quite place. They reminded her of two stoplights glowing in the night.

The girl squinted, staring for just a moment longer before turning and trotting back up the stairs, as casually as if she had just come down to pick up something from storage.

Alucard watched as she disappeared, experiencing more surprise than he'd felt in a long, long time.

/

Integra was sitting contentedly in her office, puffing on a cigar as usual. The only sound in the large, library-like study was the refined tick-tock of a majestic antique clock that rested above the doorway. She closed her weary eyes for just a brief moment, enjoying the rare tranquility of silence. It felt wonderful to rest her mind and simply appreciate the quiet.

Naturally, this was the perfect time for Cricket to burst through the door as noisily as she possibly could, which was quite loud. Halfway towards the front entry, the adrenaline of crashing down a flight of stairs suddenly kicked into overtime. Her face was as white as a sheet, her eyes wide and wild like a panicked animal's as she sprang to smack her hands down on the desk, effectively winning her employer's full attention.

She leaned in close; her voice was a frenzied whisper. _"Did you know that the grudge is living in your basement?"_

Integra's cigar dropped from her lips.

The maid had found Alucard. God help that sneaky bastard vampire, she was going to make sure he tasted more lead than blood tonight.


	7. Septynios

**Writing 101: This, children, is what we refer to as a filler chapter. It's what you do when you're attempting to bridge the idea you had two chapters ago and the idea you have now. Yeah, I don't like them either.**

**By the way. Newsflash for reviewers: I love you, I really do. You cats crack me up. **

Integra was not in a good mood. In fact, she was in a very, very bad mood. "Alucard," she commanded with a lofty voice, "come here. Now."

The shadows seemed to melt and contort as she spoke, molding the dark figure of her servant.

"Master."

Icy eyes narrowed and became colder yet at the vampire's casual greeting. Integra intertwined her fingers over her mouth, stare unwavering. Alucard stared back, his own gaze just as steady and swimming with amusement, among other unrecognizable things.

"Tell me, why was the door to the basement left unlocked?" She was calm and direct.

The vampire tilted his head and quirked an eyebrow, his strong, angular features almost imperceptibly beginning to morph into something softer, round and childlike in appearance. "The door? Unlocked? Why, I had no idea," He replied in a lighter voice, now the very portrait of innocence itself. Yet Integra knew better than to overlook his subtle illusions; he could change his face to be gentle and trustworthy, but she knew him too well to be fooled by his tricks.

Her fingers twitched, just itching to snatch her handgun from its place under the desk.

"Yes. It was unlocked. And the maid just so happened to wander down into your chamber, as I'm sure you noticed."

She was quiet for a few moments longer, watching with hawk-like eyes as he continued his innocent façade. "Really? Hmm… I suppose I do recall noticing _something_…" Was his worried reply, his voice warm and all too sweet.

"Do you know what she found in the basement?"

He batted thick lashes that framed normally sharp, predatory eyes, now vulnerable and doe-like.

"You."

Red eyes widened in surprise, and he looked utterly taken aback, giving a little gasp. 'He' had by this point completed his slow transformation into the character of a tiny, rosy-cheeked child, harmless with its slim stature and pouty lips. "No! Me?"

Integra felt her reserve snap at his blatant mockery, and her words became snarls, eyes whittling down to furious slits. "_You bloody fool!" _

Just as quickly as she lost her stony demeanor, Alucard's genteel one twisted back into his former towering, masculine cut, once again radiating raw bestial power. The two were akin to absolute forces of nature, infinitely tied—Slave and master, captive and captor, alpha and omega, Dracula and van Hellsing.

"If you dare try and use this child, or any other that I bring into this house, for your games of petty self amusement the rest of your years under my hand will be spent in misery. Misery unlike you have ever known." Both pairs of eyes blazed.

"Oh, I doubt you could bring me to any sort of miseries I've not yet felt, Master." Alucard started to dissolve until he was little more than an inky fog from which two red eyes glowed and rows of pearly fangs grinned.

She sneered. "We shall try anyway."

A hand so cold that it burned trailed across Integra's shoulders in the dark, a purring hiss tickling her spine.

"Please do."

Integra reached into a little box on her desk and retrieved a cigar. She placed it between her lips and struck a match from the book, the tip glowing as red as Alucard's eyes. She rose.

"Servant."

The maniacal, Cheshire grin twitched wider. "Yes, my dear, sweet little Integra?" A disembodied voice husked.

Bullet after blessed bullet tore through his face until it was riddled with oozing holes. Blood spattered the polished wooden floor, and the broken grin remained for a few tantalizing moments before fading away.

Plumes of smoke curled from her lips as Integra exhaled and when she spoke her voice was searing, dead calm. "Watch your tongue, you vile, disgusting filth, or I'll cut it out for good."

/

Cricket loped down the street, strung tighter than a violin. It was pouring rain, the warm, steamy, disgusting kind, and it would have been pitch black out but the streetlamps and building lights kept the slick roads luminous. It seemed like every glowing window, every neon business sign, every passing car's headlights were those red eyes from the Hellsing basement. Walking home at night from the bus stop was never a comfortable affair, but tonight Cricket was ready to crawl out of her itching skin and leave it lying there on the street.

Wary of every shadow and corner, the girl kept to the edge of the sidewalk as she journeyed towards home. She watched the world go by intently while moving at a brisk canter through the oily streets, several times losing her footing, skidding and slipping frantically but never falling. Pubs exploded with sudden bursts of boisterous laughter every now and then, far away sirens and the buzzing of nighttime conversation forming a background track that assaulted her senses. It wasn't a long walk home after the two bus rides, but for Cricket, it felt like a million miles of nonstop paranoia and aggravation.

Relief unlike any other washed through her body when home finally did appear, safe and calm and far from the loud London nightlife. She stepped through the threshold of the door, valiantly battling her way through her mother's exuberant barrages of how her day went and if she was alright and if her boss got the cookies (which she didn't, thank God). Cricket managed to escape to her bedroom, congratulating herself on a job well done as she flicked on the lights. After a brief survey confirmed that everything was in order (or rather, not in order, seeing as her room was a disaster area wrapped up in a crime scene) she made her way to the bathroom for a pleasantly warm shower.

Half an hour and sixty gallons of water later, Cricket emerged from the bathroom whistling, still sopping wet but now in a good way.* Following her nighttime routine, she was soon sitting cross-legged in bed with the TV droning on, finally able to truly relax and think within the safety of those four familiar walls.

She stared out the second-story window at the pulsing sheets of rain. She liked the noise it made when it hit the rooftops, or when the wind sent it pounding against her windows. It made her feel safe, buried inside a nest of pillows and blankets, like she was hidden in the sky's womb. On the TV people laughed in a friendly way at some late night talk show host, and on her walls the Christmas lights she'd hung cast a warm glow of colors against the shifting shadows the rain threw. Letting out a breathy hum of comfort, Cricket allowed her brain slow down until it came to a stop, drifting peacefully in a pleasant daze through some ethereal purgatory between sleep and reality.

It wasn't until her mother cracked the door to let the dog slip into Cricket's room that she came back to earth. Waking briefly to the sound of his collar's tinkling as the dog circled his own little bed, she pawed wearily for the remote, flipping through the channels sleepily with plenty of little yawns until she found what she was looking for—Good old American TV, unintelligent and insulting. Smiling and humming dazedly, she crawled from her little cave blankets to the foot of her bed, reaching down and stroking the already snoring dog's graying fur. Stumbling from the tangles of bed, she made her way to the kitchen in a groggy stupor. Cricket rustled around the fridge until she found something good to eat, and then followed the path back to her bed in the typical adolescent zombie-like fashion. It was while engaging in this nocturnal teenage ritual she just so happened to look over at her desk, covered in sticky notes and schoolbooks and various manners of homework. Nothing was out of place, really; nothing to cause suspicion or alarm. Except for one thing, one small detail that she barely caught.

There, placed next to the dozens of loose papers, sat Cricket's paycheck. The same paycheck that had fluttered away from her when she took her little spill down the stairs. The same paycheck that she was absolutely positive she hadn't brought home. It was perfectly neat, no wrinkles or creases or anything, no signs of being stuffed into her pocket or trampled over in her mad dash home.

If she wasn't weirded out before, Cricket certainly was now.

***Not that kind of wet. It wasn't ****that**** good of a shower.**


	8. Ocho

**I just realized that my sock is basically ripped in half. And I really liked these socks, too. **

**Oh, yes, before I forget, (places offerings before reviewers). **

Cricket looked at the stain on the floor before her, then back at Integra. She looked down, then back once more. She pointed at the dark splatter, obviously a little confused.

"What's this?"

Integra signed one more paper with a quick dash, not even bothering to look up. "Walter spilled the tea."

She didn't believe that for a second. She'd seen that butler move—he was more like a cat than an old man. Besides, tea didn't make stains like _that. _Still, it seemed more intelligent to just clean it up than question what it was…Or how it got there.

So Cricket did just that. It took lots of scrubbing and a little bit of bleach, but finally, she got the worst of it out. Integra continued to work, glancing every now and then at the blue-haired girl who was down on all fours, working at Alucard's blood spatter with a vengeance. It was like the splotch had personally committed some crime against her, the way she scrubbed. After a good twenty minutes, the deed was at last done. Giving a quick huff, Cricket leaned back on her heels and rested her hands on her knees, looking up at Integra with triumph and pride shining in her grin.

"I made that stain my bitch!"

Integra nearly choked on her cigar. Her new employee truly had a knack for saying the strangest things. Clearing her throat, she busied herself with the papers surrounding her, for all her propriety and education still at a loss for how to respond to such a statement.

"Yes. Well. It appears it will be teatime soon." She replied curtly, indicating that Cricket should be in the kitchen making the tea. Normally that was Walter's job, but on this particular day, he had more… important things to do. So, his chipper little housecleaning protégé was tasked with working his duties as well as her own. Taking the hint Cricket made her leave, off to prepare the afternoon tea. Integra could hear her whistling as she loped down the halls, and the woman gave a heavy sigh of relief. She wondered, did she have that much energy when she was sixteen?

By the time Cricket returned, silver tray in hand, it was well past teatime. Nine minutes, to be exact. Integra leaned back, raising an eyebrow at her tardiness, but remaining silent. The girl smiled sheepishly, setting the tray on the desk and pouring her employer a cup of the steaming brew. "You've got a really big mansion here, you know. What is it… five floors? Six?"

"You got lost."

Integra gave the tea an experimental taste, and was mildly surprised to find that it was really quite good, as good as Walter's even. She had to admit, that was quite impressive, considering how many years it had taken Walter to perfect what he referred to as "the fine art of teatime."

'Teatime is the purest tradition of a well-bred Englishman,' he always insisted. 'A mark of true civilization.'

She rolled her eyes at the memory. The Hellsing butler could be so anal when it came to matters of the household.

Cricket flopped down in one of the overstuffed chairs and watched as Integra first tested the amber liquid, and then gave an approving nod in her direction. She beamed, looking almost giddy; like a little kid who had successfully pleased their mother.

There were a few quiet moments as Integra sipped her tea, looking lost in thought. Cricket stared at nothing in particular, equally lost in thought, before suddenly blurting out a question she wished she would have thought over beforehand.

"Are you a gangster?"

Integra stopped abruptly mid-sip, peering over the rim of her glasses at the skinny girl. She stared back with a painfully serious expression.

Setting her cup down, she wondered where a question like that had come from. "A gangster?" Her voice and her face were incredulous.

Cricket nodded. "Yeah, yeah, a gangster," She motioned towards where the stain had previously been. "You've got a pretty sketchy show going on here. The 'tea stain', the soldiers, that huge stockpile of guns, etcetera etcetera."

For once in her life, Integra was at a loss. "Oh…" She hesitated. She'd never been caught off guard like this before, and she certainly never thought she would be, especially by a sixteen year old. "Sketchy?" She repeated, vaguely wondering how she knew about the armory.

Cricket raised her hands cordially, showing that she meant no harm. "Hey, don't worry, I won't tell on you," She leaned in conspiratorially. "I think it's really badass."

Integra started and stopped a number of times, attempting to sound indignant, though truly she was still startled. There was something else, too… What was it?...Could it be that she, Sir Integra Wingates van Hellsing, descendent of the famed Abraham van Hellsing and head of the notorious vampire hunting organization, one of the Knights of the Round Table, was flattered that she had been called a badass?

A sudden buzzing from the intercom on Integra's desk kept her from replying. "Sir," Walter's stately voice crackled. "Your associate is here for the meeting." Integra cleared her throat, pressing a button on the little speaker.

"Yes, thank you Walter. Send him up." She replied tightly. Standing, she suffocated the remaining stub of her cigar and regained her domineering demeanor, straightening her suit. "Now, Jane, if you don't mind."

Cricket gathered up the tea tray, turning towards the door, but not before giving Integra a knowing little grin and a wink. "Right, right, your 'associate'. I get it." A sharp knock resounded throughout the study. The girl opened the door, revealing what she found to be a very unsavory fellow, thin and terribly pale, with equally pale hair neatly tied back and deceitful little eyes. A white collar peeked out of his black robes along with the glint of a heavy golden cross suspended on a chain.

"Sir Integra," He greeted in a somewhat forced manner, giving the blue-haired girl a strange look as she opened the door for him. Since when did Hellsing hire heathen teenagers?

Cricket smiled pleasantly at the man, slipping past his tall frame, but not before turning to give Integra another wink and not-too-subtle thumbs up. The woman gave a groaning sigh, rubbing her temples as she settled herself back into her regal chair. She wasn't in the mood to deal with Iscariot and especially not Maxwell.

Cricket walked down the halls, whistling to herself once more. So Hellsing really was a gang—She should have suspected; it all added up now. It didn't really bother her, the thought of working for a crime lord. Well, at least not when that crime lord was Integra.

Grandiose scenes of that very same Integra negotiating crack shipments and dear little Seras demanding money from clients behind on their payments played out in her head as Cricket made her way to the kitchen to wash dishes. Peering out the windows, she noticed that it was quickly growing darker. It had already been dark all day, thanks to a storm that had rolled in the previous night and decided to stay awhile. Now, as it got later and later in the evening, brooding gray clouds and howling wind completed the dismal scene.

Pushing open the swinging door with her foot, Cricket entered the clean little kitchen, all the while whistling and singing under her breath. She filled the sink with hot, soapy water, dropping in what few used dishes there were and yanking on a pair of incredibly unattractive yellow rubber dishgloves. She scrubbed away contentedly, unusually fond of doing dishes for someone of her age.

A sudden soft thump at the door stole away her attention from a particularly stubborn grease spot. Turning towards the noise, Cricket's cheery whistle slowly died away as the massive, inky black head of a…something…peered back at her from the doorway. The plate she clutched in her yellow-clad hand plunked back down into the suds, flicking soap bubbles onto her cheek. Unsure of exactly how to react to this shocking situation, Cricket decided to give denial a shot, slowly turning back to her dishes and picking up the plate, continuing to carefully scrub. Perhaps she was just seeing things. Big, dangerous, black things.

After a few moments, she dared a sideways glance at the apparition. The head was no longer there; instead, a creature of monstrous proportions sat quietly on huge haunches in its place. Upon recognizing that she wasn't having a hallucination, Cricket promptly took the most logical course of action: She shrieked and threw her arms up, throwing the plate with them. It collided with the wall, shattering loudly and causing the girl to wheel around with a flighty jump. The beast watched as she scrambled to sweep up the ceramic shards that littered the ground.

Taking a cautious peek over her shoulder confirmed that the thing was still there, panting slightly as it watched her. Cricket pulled off the rubber gloves, tossing them towards the sink and squinting as she examined the creature. It had to be at least five feet tall sitting down, encased in a coat of dense black fur, with pointed ears that swiveled at every noise. A long pink tongue lolled from its enormous jaws, which were filled with rows of large white canines.

Canines…

"AHAH!" Cricket cried, a lightbulb flashing in her head. 'It' was some sort of dog, wolf, canid creature. Certainly bigger than any canine she had ever heard of, but what else could it be?

"Maybe a black bear," She mumbled, crouching and tentatively reaching out her hand for the dog to sniff. "Hey, puppy! Hey theeere…" She crooned softly, shuffling forward. The dog tilted its head, offering a single wag of its tail in response to her coaxing.

Taking this as a good sign, she tenderly placed her hand on its gigantic head, stroking slowly. "Oh yes, what a good boy…What a good boy you are!..." The dog pressed its head against her palm, apparently approving of the attention.

Cricket scratched behind one of its ears, now smiling. This was certainly a pleasant surprise.

/

Integra narrowed her cold eyes, silent as stone until the closing door finally clicked shut. She puffed thoughtfully on her cigar, considering all that Maxwell had shared with her. It seemed the Major was up to something, yet again. Deeply sighing, she rose from her chair and strode from the room; it would be best to seek Walter's counsel. Platinum strands shined in what little remaining light there was, flowing behind Integra like a silky veil as she stalked to the field where Walter was training the newest recruits.

Stepping into the elevator, which she would never regret paying for, the icy woman idly recalled that she had some military finances to look over before the end of the evening. The days simply weren't long enough to accomplish everything the head of the Hellsing organization would like to.

The elevator let out a pleasant little ding as it came to a halt on the ground floor. The doors opened with a great whoosh, and Integra stepped out. That reminded her; she still needed to interrogate Se—

"Hey, Integra! I didn't know you had a dog!"

Integra looked down the hall in the direction the words had come from, recognizing Cricket's American drawl easily. "Hm? Dog? I don't have a d—"

Her virginal blood ran cold, and the smoldering cigar dropped to the floor.

There in the middle of the hallway in all her naïve glory stood Cricket, grinning stupidly at Integra and scratching the ruff of one very giant, very canine, and very pleased vampire.

All she could manage in her shock was to utter a single word: _**"**__Alucard!"_

The beast grinned wickedly at his master from Cricket's side.

"Alucard? Is that his name?" She leaned over, despite the fact that the dog was almost as tall as she was, smiling, and ruffled his furry cheeks. She looked so tiny, so fragile next to the towering monster. "Is Alucard your name, buddy? Huh?" His tail wagged placidly. "Ohhh, what a sweet boy you are! Yes yes yes, you're such a good boy, Alucard!" She cooed happily. The dog licked the tip of her nose, making rumbling, throaty purring noises and glancing at Integra, relishing her numb shock. She couldn't very well tell the girl that the dog she was fawning over was actually a man, and a **vampire** no less. She knew she couldn't stop him from doing as he pleased, but he felt it wise to demonstrate this seeing as she recently appeared to be having doubts. Alucard had to admit, he'd really outdone himself with this little trick. Oh, did vengeance ever taste so sweet!

Integra was, simply put, blown away. Here sat the most powerful being ever to arise from the grave, the great Nosferatu, the king of the undead, the immortal damned, being coddled and baby-talked by a teenager.

"If he's not yours, then whose is he?" Cricket asked, looking up at the awestruck woman and breaking the spell of her thoughts.

"No one's," She replied, not even trying to hide her surprise. "It belongs to no one."

Cricket's whole face lit up like a Christmas tree. "So I can have him!"

Integra hesitated, unsure of what exactly to say. No, and she had to explain that he was, indeed, a vampire. Yes, and she risked Cricket being devoured in the middle of the night. However, before she had a chance to make up her mind, the clock struck nine-thirty. Cricket sprung up—This meant not only that she had fulfilled her double duties for the day, but also that if she didn't hurry she'd miss the next bus. It never occurred to her that she couldn't take a dog on the bus anyway; her only fleeting thoughts were that she didn't want to miss this one and wait in the dark for an extra twenty minutes.

Before the clock had finished ringing, Cricket had said her brief goodbyes, and she and Alucard were gone. Integra stood motionless, still absorbing what had just occurred. At last she gave a bewildered sigh, reaching into her suit and retrieving a cigar. If she ever needed a smoke, it was now.


	9. Kyuu

**Ahh. I like that you like my plotless driveling. It makes me happy.**

"No animals on the bus."

"What?" Cricket looked up helplessly at the bus driver, a rather stout and hairy man with olive skin and a dark, wiry mustache. He had a voice like gravel crunching under someone's shoes.

He repeated, "Sorry, no animals on the bus."

The two stared blankly at each other.

"…What?" Somewhere in the back of her head she vaguely hoped that acting mentally handicapped might just convince the man to let her and the hulking creature following her onto the rumbling vehicle.

The plump fellow heaved in exasperation. "Look here, kid, you can't bring that thing on. Policy." He shrugged and gave an 'I-don't-make-the-rules-I-just-follow-'em' expression, thumb jutting towards the wolf-beast that waited patiently in the background. Cricket sputtered uselessly from below, spreading her hands in appeal.

"C'mon, there's nobody else even on!" From one of the windows, the lone rider shot her an offended look. "Besides, you wouldn't want a young girl like myself walking _all alone_ in the dark _late at night_. Look at me; I'm a walking jackpot for pedophiles." She put her hands on her hips, voice turning grave. "How would you live with yourself if I was brutally raped and beaten on my innocent way home, all because I was refused by the bus driver? My blood would be on _your_ hands." She shook her head in disappointment, frowning.

The driver rolled his eyes, giving a loud and unimpressed snort. "Lady, aint nobody gonna go anywhere near you with a dog like that. Now get going, you're holding up my route."

Seeing her chances of success dwindle, Cricket's face became pleading again and she opened her mouth, preparing to launch another desperate attempt to convince the cranky driver to allow her to board the bus with her dog. Behind her, Alucard crept closer, barely discernable from the shadows as he peered at the driver from the girl's side. He was thoroughly amused by their bantering; however, he knew this was a battle she was not going to win, and decided that it would be best if they didn't walk. All the driver needed was a bit of…encouragement on Alucard's part, and he suddenly felt it very wise to allow the duo aboard.

Smiling weakly in relief and thankfulness, Cricket paid her way and climbed the steps, plopping herself down in one of the distressed seats. In two long-legged strides the beast was next to her. He somehow managed to drape himself casually across the row of tiny seats, resting his massive head on Cricket's thighs with an appreciative sigh. She patted him affectionately as the bus lurched forward, beginning its sluggish climb up the street. Across the aisle, the man held his briefcase to his chest defensively when Alucard turned his piercing gaze on him. The only other living thing on the bus, he kept his wary eyes glued to the behemoth that regarded him with little interest.

The Nosferatu watched the poor trembling sap squirm under his steady gaze, feeling the nervousness roll off him in waves. When he parted his monstrous jaws in a yawn, displaying dangerous rows of glistening fangs, he thought the man might faint right there. What strange, entertaining things humans are, he thought with a low wheezing chuckle.

/

"You're a lucky one, boy," Cricket commented as she and the canine Alucard walked around the back of a plain house. "Mom and dad are out. It's just you and I."

The night was now in full bloom, with stars winking in the sky and crickets chirping from the brush. "My brethren are singing for us." The girl chuckled, opening a splintered wooden gate taller than she was. Inside were a large, slightly overgrown yard filled with numerous different plants and a deck draped in colorful luminescent lanterns. Closing the gate and locking it behind her, Cricket hopped up the deck steps while humming a little tune to herself. She leaned back against the sliding door and watched Alucard lope after her, lean muscles rippling and flexing under a glossy coat as he leaped up the six steps in a single bound. She marveled at what a striking animal he was, so very calm and controlled, yet also extremely powerful.

Crouching down, Cricket ran her hands over his smooth back, down his belly, and finally up to his chest, receiving a wheezing sigh in reply as he laid down with a thump. She could feel him relax beneath her hands as they roamed around his massive body, stroking dark fur so silky soft, she just wanted to bury her face in it and take a nap. The girl could feel the dog's dark, intelligent eyes on her, observing her movements in almost a calculative manner. For the first time, she also noticed their color. They were just a step away from black, flecked with scarlet embers and a glint that left a vaguely ominous feeling in her stomach, fueled by the way that he parted his dark lips and seemed to grin knowingly at her.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to Cricket. Was 'he' even a he at all? She had just assumed, but now she realized that she really didn't know. And that made her really want to.

Alucard's eyes narrowed to slits as the girl's face changed. He knew the expression she donned: Curiosity.

Throwing subtlety to the wind, Cricket took an unashamed look down south, her eyebrows going up at what she saw. "My oh my," She remarked, obviously impressed. "You're a rather well-endowed fellow, aren't you?" Her voice was congratulatory and quite awestruck. Alucard made another one of those toothy grins that caused her to feel that he fully understood everything she said, accompanied by a deep, ragged rumble in his chest that was oddly similar to a baritone laugh.

She checked below deck again, just to make sure that she wasn't being fooled by the dim lights. After an amusingly close examination, Cricket ruffled her hair and chirped, "Huh. Well, we're going to have to call the vet. Can't have you running around with all that extra hardware, can we? Wouldn't want a bunch of baby Alucards prancing through London."

This statement was met with what she would have called a very stony glare, if she hadn't known better. "Aw, don't look at me like that. You won't miss 'em, I swear." She smiled and patted his head reassuringly. He snorted gruffly in reply.

The sky was beginning to let loose a drizzle of fat raindrops, not enough to soak you, but enough to sure make you uncomfortable. Cricket opened the patio door, fleeing inside, with Alucard preparing to follow. But before he could step inside, the screen door was abruptly shut, and Cricket stood wagging a finger at him and clicking her tongue. "Sorry boy, but you're not allowed inside. You might have fleas…or rabies or something." Alucard growled low, long and deep, lips twitching to let her glimpse his incisors and his sharp ears flattening, conveying his obvious displeasure. The girl took no heed and kicked off her shoes as she flicked on the lights, revealing a comfortable and pleasantly warm kitchen that smelled of garlic and spices. Whistling a cheery tune, she opened up a cupboard, tinkering around without so much as glancing at the vampire.

He released an agitated snarl, realizing that this child was indeed ignoring him. He sat down on his haunches outside the screen and waited, a continuous growl rumbling in his throat as he watched her turn on a burner, fill up a teapot, and then flick on a nearby TV, hoisting herself up to sit on the counter with swinging legs.

_Very well_, Alucard thought gravely. With immovable resolve, he rose to his full beastly height, which was maybe a few inches shy of Cricket's, and did something that she could absolutely not ignore.

All Cricket heard was a strange cracking rip, a noise like she'd never heard before. Startled, she turned to peek over her shoulder, and was greeted with the sight of a damp Alucard padding placidly to the counter where she sat. His claws clicked on the floor as the creature lumbered to her side, nudging her hand with a cold, wet nose. Behind him, a large tare split the now shredded screen door, rendering it positively destroyed.

Cricket looked at him with a blank face, mouth open though she said nothing. Finally, after many moments of stunned quiet, she got off the counter and shut the sliding door over the screen one. She turned and looked to Alucard, who wore a countenance of calm and triumph. She shook her head and sighed complacently. The vampire's tail thumped against the floor.

"Touché, my lupine friend. Touché."


	10. Dieci

**Your reviews give me self-esteem. Please do continue to tell me how much you love it.**

**I'm serious. Criticism and comments are my bread and butter.**

**So, you should be excited for the next chapter. Cause it's going to be mighty hilarious, if I do say so myself. **

**EDIT: June 2****nd****. Tweaked and tuned. **

"Master!"

The only reply was the soft hum of crickets chirping.

The frantic whisper rose again. "_Master!"_

Black fog rose like a plague around Seras, who was currently perched upon the roof of Cricket's home, peeking over the windowsill of her room. A familiar serpentine purr echoed in her head.

'Really now, police girl, what would the maid think if she woke up and found you creeping about her window like a peeping tom?'

Seras's face flushed with angry embarrassment, and if she were in a more stable position, she'd have planted her hands firmly on her hips. However, in her precarious situation, a glare sufficed. "You're the one who's been in her room all evening!" She protested in a hushed tone. The little blonde vampiress had been absolutely horrified when she had woken and learned that her master had gone gallivanting away with Cricket in the form of one of his familiars. She saw him as the big bad wolf, off to defile poor little red riding hood. Oh, who could imagine what he had done to her dear, sweet, innocent Cricket!

'You entertain the most ridiculous of ideas,' Alucard said flatly, reading his fledgling's emotions with disappointing ease. 'I have no use in seducing children.'

Seras glared harder, setting her jaw in a pout-like frown. "Stop reading my thoughts!" She snapped irritably.

'I don't need to read your thoughts,' He retorted lowly. 'You practically broadcast them.'

gave a little huff, reluctantly admitting to herself that this was true. "Sir Integra sent me to come get you. We have a mission to do...Master." She mumbled, her voice meek by the time she reached the last word. She glanced in worriedly at Cricket, checking from a distance to ensure that she hadn't been drained, maimed, or worse…seduced. She was sprawled out in an odd leaping position amid a sea of bedding, hands clamped around the bars of her bed frame, tangled in the whole mess of blankets and sheets with her face mashed into a pillow, haloed by a jumbled pile of wild hair. Stretched across the foot of her bed, a chubby little red dog lay snoring over the rumbling of an old box fan. Seras was relieved-Cricket was, thankfully, positively un-seducible.

'Satisfied?' Alucard questioned, reappearing on the sidewalk below as his usual self. One dark eyebrow was raised, lips curved in a smug smirk, while tinted sunglasses hid his red eyes that surely mocked the silly police girl for her insolence and very human emotions.

Seras took one more look at Cricket, feeling helpless, but resigned from any further investigation. 'Well then, shall we?' the deep baritone sounded in her mind. She quickly crawled down the house, being extra careful when she passed by the parents' bedroom window. They slept peacefully, unaware that two vampires were slinking away from their daughter's bedroom. Whatever would they think if they knew, Seras wondered?

/

The night was quiet. Light showers of warm rain came and went, and the moon spent most of the evening hiding behind dark clouds. Seras walked in silence, twiddling her thumbs in an anxious fashion. She couldn't stop thinking about her Master spending the night alone with the maid.

Finally, she found her voice, albeit a soft one. "Master?"

"Yes, police girl?" Came the unrushed reply.

Alucard was indulging in his habit of eliminating his physical presence, which even after all this time still made Seras as jittery as a frightened deer.

"Umm, what exactly did you…well, do? I mean you and Cricket…Last night, that is…"

The Nosferatu pondered how to answer this. The night before had been truly intriguing.

The majority of it was spent on Cricket's bed, though in a way that was most unusual for Alucard; by himself. He hadn't slept in a bed for centuries, and whenever he did use one the time was certainly not spent resting. Yet there he had lain that evening, watching as Cricket sat cross-legged on the floor, a pile of textbooks and dozens of papers spread out before her in a semicircle. A laptop was propped up next to her, emitting a gentle male voice and melodic strumming that Cricket hummed along with. Occasionally he'd hear her murmur in concentration under her breath as she did what he assumed was schoolwork, saying things about mitosis and the absence of the p53 gene. This gave him lots of time to observe her habitat.

A teenager's room was a foreign world to Alucard. On the walls, which were painted a minty seafoam green, Christmas lights were strung up from corner to corner. The glowing bulbs cast colorful shadows over countless posters and photos as well as a corkboard of assorted notes and receipts, one such little slip of paper bearing the Hellsing mansion's underlined address. The room consisted of an old TV, flanked by what appeared to be a huge robot head* and an large multiple stacks of magazines, two bookshelves stuffed with volumes both thick and thin, a laundry basket overflowing with clothes, and a writing desk piled with all manner of items, including the untouched check he had so graciously delivered. Alucard found himself smirking when he glanced at the nightstand and saw a copy of _Dracula_, a bookmark placed about half way through. If only she knew that the famed Dracula himself was the one lounging on her bed.

His eyes swept over the pictures that dotted the walls. One showed Cricket and four other girls leaning over a railing, hands thrown in the air and bubbly laughter filling their faces. In another, she was alight with a smile that words could not describe, holding a tiny pink-faced baby in her arms. Lying on her messy bed, looking at the photographs covering the walls and watching her do homework, it dawned on Alucard that it was not her room, but Cricket herself that was a foreign world to him.

Eventually, the youth heaved a great sigh, stretching her arms high above her head before leading the little red dog and Alucard downstairs. She kicked them outside for a few minutes to "take care of their business" in the yard. The dog gave the monster a nasty glare, quite miffed that he should have to share his territory with a fraud. When she let the two back in, Cricket had changed into a pair of striped shorts and a t-shirt that read 'Linkin Park', munching on a bowl of Cheerios.

"Sixth grade was a confusing year for me," She defended, covering the words on her shirt when he gave her an odd look. Alucard was then presented with a blue dish filled with dry dog food, and another with water. "Here, you can have Scrap's. He eats old man food, so it's probably pretty gross, but it's all I have." At this, he received another dirty look from the presumed 'Scrap'. After many attempts and just as many failures to get Alucard to eat, the trio retired once more to Cricket's room.

It was here that he somehow found himself stretched out across Cricket's bed, who then presumed to do something to him that a woman never, ever had.

"Ohhhh yesyesyes! Do you like that, Alucard? Huh? Such a good boy!" She crooned in a sing-song voice, bending over him with her hands buried in the dark fur of his belly, scratching and rubbing away like there was no tomorrow. At first he had bristled harshly, unprepared for such brazen close proximity, but for at least that one night he was indeed a dog and thus could not stop himself from complying with the rising canine instincts. As a Nosferatu, he should have been deeply shamed by the way his leg pumped when Cricket found just the right spot below his massive ribcage, yet he couldn't focus on anything besides the pleasantly odd, tickling bliss. It was true that occasionally Seras would play with his lupine form, but it was nothing like what this child was doing; she had the king of vampires thumping his tail and letting his tongue loll out in content. Clearly, she knew her way around a dog.

The rest of the night continued on like this, Cricket's parents arriving home late in the night, too exhausted to do anything more than just glance into her room. She nodded off spooning the beastly creature, the way one might do with somebody they cared for. It was a wholly loving gesture, a simple display of easy affection; there wasn't a hint of the lust or infatuation that he had grown to expect from women.

Alucard wasn't sure he appreciated it.

"Master?"

A girlish voice interrupted his recollections, two big blue eyes staring at him with curious caution in the dark. He turned to Seras with such a piercing stare and his jaw clenched so tight that her own eyes instantly snapped to the ground. She shuffled uncomfortably under the intensity of his gaze, wishing she had never said anything at all. The sudden wicked grin that split Alucard's face caught her off guard.

"What did we do, you ask?"

Seras glanced up at him from under thick blonde lashes. Alucard's deep laugh rolled like thunder in the darkness of the night. His eyes never blinked, never left her, and she could see needle-like fangs clicking into a barbaric smirk. He looked…utterly Cheshire.

Soon there was nothing to see at all, as he had faded until he was little more than a dark smudge against the sky, churning with the nighttime clouds. The fact that he didn't answer her made it all the more sinister.

Seras was so frustrated she just wanted to scream! "_Master, stop doing that to me_!" She cried out, stomping off after him. It seemed that not a day went by when her master didn't manage to find at least one way to torment the reluctant vampiress.

***It's Bender, baby. That's right, collectors edition.**


	11. scratch

**I'm moderately unsatisfied with how this turned out. But I'm not having a good day for such things.**

**It just feels…wrong. Weird, unnatural, in a bad way. And Walter is sort of out of character.**

**Ehh. Whatchyuh gonna do. **

**Feedback would be highly appreciated. I'm feeling especially pitiful right now; I could use some adoration and praise.**

**BY THE BY. While Alucard is indeed introduced as a vampire in this chapter, I don't consider this to be the real chapter 11. Hence the name, 'scratch'. I only kept this up so that I can keep track of my progress. **

Walter watched with mild amusement as bubbles flew and water sloshed from the sink, where Cricket was scouring a white dinner plate with maniacal ferocity. They were currently stationed in the kitchen, he over a pan of delicate little teacakes, and she over a frothy sink containing the unwashed dishes. Dishes seemed to be a personal favorite of Cricket's; her whistling was always particularly cheery when she was scrubbing away at plates and cups and silverware. Every day she would stroll in as Walter made lunch, snap on the now familiar duckling yellow rubber gloves, and with her trusty pink sponge start in on the soapy dinnerware.

But today was different. Today she was not washing the dishes, but attacking them, scrubbing with all the vehemence of a madman. Walter feared that if he did not intervene, the poor plate currently held captive would crumble from her fiery stare alone. Careful not to startle the volatile child, he lightly patted her shoulder, plucking the dish from her hands easily and settling it on the drying rack.

"I believe that it's clean now." He commented gently.

Cricket looked up at the elderly butler, almost dumbstruck, as though she didn't even know he had been there, as wholly engrossed as she was. "…Oh. Okay."

With this she slumped back against the counter, releasing an exasperated and disheartened sigh. A frown tugged at Walter; the poor scrawny thing looked so terribly forlorn and pitiful. He glanced down at the pan of cakes, frosted with cream and shavings of chocolate, a little raspberry topping each one.

"Now, now, it's not ladylike to groan and sigh in such a way," He scolded in a manner somewhere next to teasing, gesturing towards the pan in front of him. "Here now, take off those heinous gloves and try one."

It was like someone turned a switch, the way Cricket's face lit up. She yanked off her rubber gloves and tossed them carelessly away. "Really? I can have one?" Her voice was eager, eyes locked on the sweet prize.

Walter nodded. "Yes," he held up a finger when she started. "But first you must tell me what's wrong." She drooped at this, but eventually complied. "Weeell…Yesterday I found this homeless dog wondering around, so I took him home with me. But when I woke up this morning, he was gone…I don't know how he could have run away…But I'm just worried about him is all." She looked up at him with baleful eyes, so truly worried about the sake of this stray mutt. He found it ridiculous, but sweet none the less. Nodding silently in approval at her explanation, Walter held out one of the promised desserts. Tentatively, she took the cake he offered, holding it in her hands for a moment and seemingly basking in its delicious beauty. At last she took a tender little bite, managing to get a smudge of thick cream on the tip of her nose. A euphoric, brilliant smile slowly rose like the sun on the horizon of her lips, setting Cricket's whole face wonderfully aglow.

Walter chuckled quietly. He thought that might cheer her up. He wasn't really a caring chap, but how could he ignore such a sweet young lady in need of comforting? After all, he was indeed the Angel of Death, but he was also a dignified Englishman. Cricket beamed up at him with sparkling admiration, taking another bite as he handed her a silver filigree tray holding the tea and a few of the cakes.

"Now, take this to Sir Integra, if you would be so kind."

She nodded dreamily, still broadly smiling when she accepted the tray as Walter took a moment to wipe the cream off her face with the dishcloth. He patted her head fondly before shooing her out of the kitchen.

"Walter?"

"Yes?"

"You're my new favorite person."

The butler simply chuckled.

"This totally makes up for Alucard running away."

"…_Pardon me?"_

/

Integra was in a bad mood. Again.

There were no restrictions to her boundless fury when Alucard returned to the manor, and she demonstrated her anger with the help of several dozen blessed rounds. She then punished the ancient Nosferatu the only way she really could—By taking away his source of power. His coffin had been shipped a long, long ways away, but as far as Integra was concerned there wasn't a place far enough on the whole blasted planet.

At first, she was more than satisfied with the results. Just seeing his wicked, tempting smirk turn into a startled expression and then savage, bitter rage was well worth the effort of having the monstrous coffin discreetly shipped and guarded.

But this satisfaction didn't last long, for Integra had overlooked one tiny detail. One detail that would no doubt turn this into as much of a punishment for her as it was for Alucard.

She had forgotten the bloody vampire was one damned passive aggressive, sneaky son of a bitch.

After a morning spent cleaning up the mess caused by his amusing himself with pedestrians, Integra had no choice but to confine him to the Hellsing grounds, where he could be kept under control. So, naturally, he decided to spend his daylight hours making his beloved master regret this decision.

Which was exactly what he was doing when Cricket knocked on the study door.

"_Go the hell away, Alucard._ What?" Integra snapped rather crossly, hissing the first part so that the maid couldn't make it out.

"It's the exotic dancer you ordered," Cricket called back, opening the door and strolling into the room with a serene smile. Integra looked even colder than usual and terribly weary. But not even the Hellsing mistress's steely glare could dampen Cricket's cheerful spirits after a cake _that_ good. She placed the tray in her hands on the desk, and then began pouring steaming tea into a cup. "Just kidding, I lied. It's only tea, no lap dances. But I do have these super amazing cakes that are like little edible orrr…gasms….."

Integra felt a stab of panic when Cricket's voice slowly trailed off, her bright gaze refocused on something just over the royal office chair. Integra's spine tingled the way it always did when she felt Alucard's cold shadow engulf her.

He was still there. She should have guessed that bastard vampire would ignore her—Good God! He was still there! Oh, she was going to **castrate** that bloody sod!

Cricket stared at Alucard, her face blank as her brain ticked away, analyzing and evaluating.

The crimson figure loomed over Integra, standing at a positively towering height of what had to be at least seven feet. He had ebony hair that seemed alive, the way it twisted haphazardly past his shoulders and drifted in front of his red eyes…Red eyes that scorched and smoldered like two hot coals, piercing through and through, eyes that looked like they belonged to some hellish mythical beast rather than a man. He owned the fierce, chiseled features of an Eastern European, mixed with a dark and violent aristocracy that whispered of something powerful, something ancient and extinct. Simply put, he was astounding; a husky, brooding anomaly of a man, a hybrid of primal magnetism and nightmarish malevolence.

Integra tensed, waiting in excruciating silence for her to scream or laugh or do something, _anything_.

What Cricket ended up doing was definitely **not** what Integra had in mind.

"Well hello sailor," She finally piped in a remarkably unaffected voice, her brows arched high. She nodded in impressed approval. "Aren't you one hot little number." She rocked back on her heels with her hands stuffed casually in her pockets.

The monster looked down at Cricket with a mouthful of gleaming fangs, quietly chuckling to himself; the whole situation was very amusing. Especially the fact that Integra looked as though she might faint away at any moment.

His master could do nothing more than sigh in insurmountable exasperation. It wasn't even ten seconds before she was inhaling the rich, calming smoke of a cigar and rubbing her temples in an attempt to relieve stress. She decided that she might as well tell the poor child the truth about Hellsing, seeing as her attempts to keep it a secret hadn't been very fruitful.

She straightened herself in the chair. Giving Cricket the most imposing, authoritative glare she could muster, she steepled her gloved fingers and steeled herself for whatever surprises may come from the conversation. She spoke carefully, "Jane."

Cricket looked at her with that steady, serene smile.

"There are things about the Hellsing organization that we have not been completely honest about. We are a covert operation whose sole purpose is to eliminate any and all supernatural threats to Her Majesty the Queen and the British Crown." She took a puff from her cigar, letting the smoke roll from between her lips as she continued to speak. The sun caused her spectacles to gleam. "We hunt vampires, and we use other vampires to do it."

Cricket continued smiling, nodding once. Integra paused, staring at her with narrowed eyes. She was beginning to wonder if this child might have something wrong mentally.

"This," She gestured towards the man behind her, "is our main weapon, Alucard."

She clicked her tongue absently, staring him straight in the eye as she waved at him the way one might do with a friend passing by on the street.

His eyes narrowed to molten slits, and he replied in a smoky purr, "I do believe we've met before."

Integra scowled, waving her hand at him in irritation. "Leave now." She commanded.

He gave a little bow and a wolfish smirk, aimed directly at Cricket. "As you wish, Master," He answered in a rolling baritone, and with that Alucard disappeared from view, though certainly not from mind.

Cricket scratched the back of her neck, looking mildly startled when he simply ceased to be there anymore. She turned back to the stressed Hellsing mistress, pointing at the empty spot where Alucard had been.

"He owes me a screen door."

Integra stared, almost dropping her cigar. And here she thought that she was ready for any sort of remark. Silent seconds ticked by.

Finally, Integra spoke. "…Is this all you have to say?" Certainly that couldn't be all.

Cricket thought for a moment and then nodded decisively, giving a contented smile. "Yep, pretty much,"

The blonde frowned.

The youth shrugged in reply. "I'm not stupid. I figured you had something shadier than drug cartels going on. Besides, you couldn't have really thought I wouldn't notice that your Transylvanian boytoy has eyes the same as the dog's and the ones from the basement."

She really hadn't expected Cricket to pick up on that. Integra wrinkled her nose, analyzing the teenager's answer.

"_Transylvanian boytoy_….?"


	12. Umikumakahi

**I'm much more pleased with how this one turned out. Bon appetit, mon Cherie, je t'aime beaucoup. **

The days came and went uneventfully for Cricket, passing by into uneventful weeks. Two weeks, to be precise. After the first night she took him home, Alucard had what her best guess was run away; when she woke up the next morning, he simply wasn't there anymore. So, naturally, she spent the next few days bawling and moping and eating ice cream, and then the ordeal was done with and she moved on. Thus, the time went by without any disturbances- no strange red eyes, no massive wolf-dogs, nothing but windows to be washed and TV to be watched. Until today, that is.

It started off as a good day.

The dishes were washed, the floor was swept, and the tea was, if Cricket did say so herself, quite impressive. Therefore her humming was especially cheerful as she strolled through the halls on her way to Integra's office. Lately Walter was being a little more lax with her chores; she had even been granted the great privilege of bringing Sir Integra her midday tea, which was what she was doing at the moment.

The door to her office finally came into view, tall, imposing, and elegant, much like Integra herself. Balancing the silver tray on one hand in a great feat of waitressing skill, Cricket grabbed the shining handle and let herself into the dark, quiet room without even a quick rap. Unfortunately, she had forgotten the golden rule of Integra's office: Knock first or get shot.

If Integra had been in her office, she certainly would have shot the presumed intruder without a second's hesitation. However, in what was an arguably lucky break for Cricket, the Hellsing mistress was in fact _not_ in her usual post before her desk. Indeed, there was someone there, but not the someone that she was expecting.

"Beer wench," Cricket announced herself, strolling in and pulling the door shut behind her. She turned with a smile, ready to greet her boss, but was stopped short before she could utter a single syllable more. For instead of the familiar platinum blonde puffing sternly on a cigar, there sat an altogether entirely different creature: A man.

A very peculiar man, Cricket thought in surprise. He lounged casually in Integra's overstuffed office chair, legs stretched out across the desk and gloved hands folded neatly in his lap, looking like some huge, lazy jungle cat. He had to be at least a full seven feet tall, clad in what appeared to be a deep crimson greatcoat over a dark Victorian three-piece suit, along with a pair of heavy boots crossed at the ankles (which, Cricket noted disdainfully, were sure to leave just the absolute worst scuffmarks on the wood). A wide-brimmed fedora the same shade of red concealed his face, aided by wild ebony hair that truly seemed to have a mind of its own. It tumbled haphazardly over his shoulders and into his eyes, which were hidden by gold-tinted spectacles, leaving him with a very enigmatic and eccentric countenance.

The mysterious man raised one dark eyebrow quizzically, the glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose and giving Cricket a glimpse of unnaturally red, blazing eyes that dragged up and down her form, inspecting her before settling into a steady gaze that mirrored her own.

Presently, he spoke. "You most certainly aren't Integra."

It was a smoky, resonating sound that rolled from his tongue; quiet and deep, but not gentle; full of constrained power. There was a certain otherworldly accent to it that she couldn't quite place.

Slowly, Cricket nodded in agreement. "Neither are you." She walked towards the desk and set down the silver tea tray, then took a step back and surveyed the rather dreary room. "I guess I'll just wait then. So where is she?"

"I know no better than you do."

This, of course, was nonsense. Alucard knew exactly where Integra was, just as he knew that she wasn't the one who would come through the door. Every human's blood sounded different rushing through their veins and pulsing through their organs, like a sort of auditory fingerprint, one that he could hear from miles away. He had known it wasn't his Master's heart beat long before the maid even walked down the hall.

Besides, even if he couldn't hear her heart, he could hear her thoughts. And it would be truly impossible to mistake her thoughts for Integra's. His Master's mind was structured and logical, always analyzing, always noting every last detail and calculating it into the grand scheme of the Organization, just like her father and her father's father had done. She was sharp, cold, and trained to perfection, just as she should be.

This maid's mind was incomparable—almost a separate species. Ideas, pictures, sounds, tastes, drifted in and out and all around; she noticed just as much as Integra, but in an entirely different way. But what was most different of all was the ease and relaxation with which it operated, how it was so terribly busy and at the same time so calm. Such a strange, strange creature this teenager was, he mused.

As Alucard grew accustomed to her presence, he began to pick up on a few drifting coherent thoughts. They went something like this:

_Did I leave the TV on? Hmmm…Crap, we're out of cereal. _At this point, she was leaning against the bookshelf-lined wall, ankles crossed in front of her. She made a little face as she looked down at her jean-covered legs. _And shaving cream._ _Man, I really need to shave. I'll have to pick up some hair dye during lunch break tomorrow, if they still sell it at Ho—Did I bring enough money for the bus? What day is it today? Maybe I'll take the train instead. But then I might have to sit by that crazy homeless guy again. Poor guy…probably doesn't even have a cardboard box to go home to. I should bring him lunch sometime. I wonder what he likes to eat... I'll have to ask him tonight. But what if he's not there? Maybe he got hit by a car or died of syphilis or something. What time is it? I'm hungry again. Why is he looking at me like that?_

Alucard found Cricket staring at him as he sat stretched out before her, noting that one hand now curled against his temple. He in turn was examining her over the top of his glasses, watching her stand there with something like amusement in his red eyes, along with another something that made her avoid his withering gaze. She shifted her weight to one foot awkwardly, her eyes dancing all around the room, anywhere but him. Every now and then, she would give him a quick peek out of the corner of her eye, and upon finding him in the same position would grimace, shift, and fidget some more.

_Why is he looking at me like that? It's weirding me out. Is there something on my face? Do I have a huge zit or something? Wait… no, it can't be. It just can't be. _

She glanced down casually at her white t-shirt, and suddenly turned very pale.He felt her internally wail in horror.

_It is! It is see-through! Oh man, my bra probably looks like a damn construction sign! How did I not notice that before? I'm never getting dressed in the dark again. Curse you and your neon underclothes, Victoria's Secret…_

As he listened in to these last thoughts, Alucard allowed a sharp-toothed, provocative smirk to spread across his face, which much to his delight caused Cricket to shuffle even more awkwardly. Unable to take the stifling discomfort, she pushed away from the shelves and backed towards the door as casually as possible, clapping her hands together and grinning out of nervous habit. He found it all very entertaining.

"Well! I for one am super duper uncomfortable, so I think I'm just going to go ahead and mosey on out of here…" her hands found the smooth, cool door handle, which felt more like the door handle of heaven's gates right about then.

Alucard raised his eyebrow for the second time, returning his hands to their folded position in his lap. His baritone voice dropped down to a low and ominous murmur, his eyes sparking. "Oh, I don't think you'll be going anywhere."

Now, a statement like that might have really upset Cricket, had she heard it. However, at that very moment she was otherwise occupied; for suddenly someone quite forcefully opened the door from the other side and sent it flying straight towards poor Cricket's face, where it collided with a resounding 'slam'.

"Ah, Master. There you are." Alucard greeted flatly, tipping his hat cordially. Integra sputtered around her half-gone cigar, looking first at her servant draped across her furniture and then at the shocked youth who lay sprawled on her back, clutching her nose that was currently spurting blood. Her icy eyes took on a striking resemblance to cold steel, and she gave the insolent vampire a vicious, wrathful glare that said something along the lines of, 'I'm going to castrate you, you bloody sod'. Oh, if only looks could kill, Integra would turn that blasted NoLife King into a proper dead man.

From the floor drifted Cricket's pitiful lilt. "Does this mean I get worker's comp…?"


	13. Dwanascie

**I've been rather busy with summer school Geometry. Yes, that's right, I failed Geometry. Just like you failed Algebra One (or, alternatively, are **_**going**_** to fail Algebra One if you aren't in high school yet). **

**I quote:**

"**Sherlock Holmes was famous for his extraordinary powers of observation and **_**deduction**_**. But what exactly does that mean? Put on a deerstalker hat, find a magnifying glass, and solve the mystery."**

**Yeah, kids. Come put on your deerstalker hat with me and let's go do some exciting geometryyyy.**

**{In other news. I would greatly appreciate thorough feedback—what you liked, what you didn't like, what's gay, what's hot n' spicy, etc. etc. **

**Thanks to those who do give feedback, even if it's not thorough. I love every bit of it.} **

It wasn't long after Integra called him on the intercom that Walter arrived to escort the poor child away. "Be quick," she had hissed to him after taking unfortunate notice of the way Alucard's eyes lit up when the blood oozed from between Cricket's fingers.

The vampire had swooped down upon her like a hawk circling its prey. "There is no need for Walter's assistance," he husked, voice turned hushed and throaty as it always did when fresh human blood was near. "I'll take care of the poor little thing." His pearly fangs seemed to grow longer yet, predatory eyes bright and alert at the idea of a warm meal practically spilling out before him. Thank goodness Integra had been there to order him to sit still, which he complied with, though begrudgingly. Now the child was (relatively) safe in the kitchen, under the watchful monocle of Walter while the master of the household was no doubt verbally throttling the disappointed vampire.

"I can't fix it if you don't move your hands."

Cricket's hands, which were clamped protectively around her nose, did not budge. Walter put his own on his hips and gave her a stern, wrinkled frown. "Come now, this is ridiculous. You're behaving very childishly, you know."

She nodded yes, hands still glued to the tender appendage. The stately butler sighed in frustration at the lanky youth, who was parked on the edge of the kitchen counter in the exact same position as five minutes ago. After many failed attempts to examine her battered face, Walter was quickly beginning to grow tired of this test of wills. It was time to resort to more...underhanded tactics.

"Well," he began with a theatric sigh, "I suppose if you're really feeling alright…"

Cricket nodded with as much enthusiasm as someone gushing blood could manage.

"…then you won't mind helping the gardener trim the lawn."

There was a lengthy pause. If there was one thing that Cricket truly, truly hated, it was hard physical labor. At last her bloodied hands slowly slid down to lay limply in her lap, signaling that the battle was over; Walter had, as usual, claimed the title of victor.

He gave a curt nod of approval, speaking briskly. "Much better." After removing his gloves and rolling up his sleeves, the butler took the girl's face in a gentle grasp, tilting it up towards the light. "Now, hold still, if you please."

His lips set in a tight line of concentration, brow furrowing as he studied her blood smeared features, rather impressed by the severity of the damage. Integra _had_ been in a hurry when she discovered that Cricket and Alucard were in the same room, seeing as he was becoming increasingly passive aggressive since the loss of his coffin. Walter had been mildly surprised, but certainly not worried—now he supposed that perhaps he should've been. Integra always did have a bit of a problem with slamming doors.

Cricket grimaced, groaning a rather flat "ouch" when Walter tentatively pressed on her mangled nose. A few more pokes and prods and he released her face, nodding, as though confirming what he had thought all along. She gave a deep sigh, looking gravely serious. "Alright doc, what's the diagnosis? Is my hot sexy goddess face ruined forever?

Walter refrained from rolling his eyes as he replied. "Goodness no. It's broken, but not badly. After I set it you'll be just fine." She looked both relieved and strangely disappointed.

"Wait, set it…? W—"

Snap, crackle, pop.

In Cricket's mind, these were sounds reserved for cereal and cereal only. Thus, she was quite distressed when she heard such noises, seeing as there were no Rice Krispies to speak of.

As it turned out, these gruesome sounds were the product of Walter quickly readjusting her broken nose*. Before she had time to register what was going on, he had literally moved it back into place, thus completing the painful deed without any extra fussing.

"There you are, all done." Cricket stared blankly for a moment, failing to comprehend just what exactly had happened. The debonair old fellow proceeded to wash off his hands and retrieve an icepack with the same collection and dignity he always did everything with. One would never know that he had just rearranged the cartilage in a child's face.

"Hold this," he instructed, pressing the pack gently against her nose after wiping away most of the tacky blood that was spattered across her cheek. "It will help the swelling go down." She didn't have to be told twice.

Whether from shock or just plain common sense, Cricket remained silent from her perch on the countertop as Walter went about cleaning up the excess blood that she had managed to splatter all over the kitchen. It was quite the gory mess for something as simple as a broken nose.

"Hey," Cricket piped presently, her voice thick from blood and muffled by the icepack. "You're one sneaky old butler."

Walter tossed the crimson rag down a laundry chute, having finished toweling up the remainder of the mess. He pulled on his usual white gloves, smoothed out his waistcoat, and turned to her with a suave little smile. "I do try."

/

Despite having unloaded yet another clip into Alucard's undead body and banishing him to the dungeon of a basement for what she promised him was an eternity, Integra remained in a very sour disposition. Ammunition was too expensive to keep wasting on cocky vampires.

When she entered the kitchen, she was greeted by the sight of Cricket lying out across the counter with her legs dangling and an icepack plopped unceremoniously on her face, while Walter searched through the pantry for the ever elusive basil. A pointed clearing of the throat was all it took to announce herself.

She gave a curt nod in Cricket's direction. "How are you?" she asked stiffly, but politely. The words sounded foreign to her ears; it wasn't often that the master of the Hellsing household stooped to ask anyone about their state of wellbeing.

She was given a simple thumbs up in reply.

A few stifling moments later, she spoke again. "…You have my sincerest apologies." It was even less often that she felt the need to say sorry, and Integra was quite sure she didn't like it one bit.

Cricket slid the icepack off her face, flashing a smile and shrugging as best as she could while lying down. "Accidents happen. It's no big deal."

Integra gave another sharp nod and released a small breath she didn't know she had been holding, letting a faint twitch of a smile come and go from her own lips. She appreciated the ease with which children let situations go.

"Soooo…" Cricket drawled, placing the pack back over her face. "Why was Captain Hook hanging out in your office?"

All signs of appreciation and any hints of…well, niceness, fell away as Integra turned even stonier than usual. "Pardon?"

Walter graciously interjected before she could comment further. "She is referring to Alucard, Sir." He lowered his voice, motioning to an open bottle of Ibuprofen on the counter. "It seems that someone might have taken one too many pills."

"Oh…ah, yes. Yes, Alucard, he is…an associate." That was true, to some degree.

"An associate, huh?"

"Yes." Integra bit out, somewhat harshly. She wished for a smoke, and made a mental note to start keeping cigars on hand in every room. "He works with Seras." Again, this was somewhat true.

Cricket made an attempt at a snort, which was greatly hindered by the heavy pack of ice resting on her bruised face. "Well he's pretty sketchy. You'd better be careful…Anybody who wears an ascot _and _a fedora is up to something." After a moment's pause, she added, "Something sketchy." A nod of the head finished her possibly drug-induced speech.

Walter chuckled quietly, wondering what his old friend would have to say to that. Integra just sneered and muttered bitterly, "Yes…he is, isn't he?"

Suddenly, without even a hint of a warning, Cricket shot up with something that sounded like an earth-shattering battle cry of 'oh, crap'. In doing so, she smacked her forehead squarely on the cabinetry, which brought forth another cry (though this one sounded much more pitiful). "Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch," she moaned, stumbling off the countertop as Walter coolly handed her another ice pack. To all outward appearances, he had wisely counted on another physical mishap like this.

"_What in God's name did you leap up like that for?" _Integra demanded, irritated that she had been caught off guard by Cricket's sudden yelping. She clenched her teeth, searching through her pockets for a cigar that she hoped would miraculously appear. When no such item was found, she turned her fierce stare to Walter. "Get me a cigar, now." She ground out, in no mood to deal with a teenager's foolishness without the aid of some tobacco.

"Sorry, sorry," Cricket replied with much meekness, holding up her hands as a sign of good will. "I just remembered that I left the oven on."

Exasperating. Yes, that was the word—positively exasperating, that's what this girl was.


	14. Kolmetoista

**I hate geometry. Thank you for your sympathy, it's very comforting in this time of vertical angles and indirect proofs.**

**By the way, I forgot to let you in on this, but the chapter names are the numbers in a different language. Does that make sense? I feel like it doesn't. Ah, you're smart cookies, you'll figure it out.**

It was a beautiful, warm, breezy afternoon, the kind that most vampires spent snugly tucked away in the cold, dead darkness of their coffins. However, there was one little vampiress who was not slumbering soundly like a proper monster should; Seras Victoria, the Nosferatu fledgling who preferred to spend her time in the company of the living instead of the undead. She stood in a shadowy corner of the bathroom, far from the mirror that her newfound friend with the blue hair was studying.

"This is so cool," Cricket remarked, leaning over the porcelain sink so that her face was only a few inches away from the reflection. "I look like I got in a bar fight."

Seras frowned doubtfully. "That's a good thing?" Just how much society had changed since her undeath she wasn't sure, but she was quite certain that in her day black eyes and broken noses weren't considered favorable.

Cricket shrugged, tentatively touching the edges of the bruise encircling her left eye. It had been three days since her unfortunate encounter with the door, and the bruise had only grown more tender and more purple. "I don't know about you, but my glass is half full. So I say it makes me look like a total badass who enters in underground cage fights on the weekends."

Again, Seras wondered if that was really a positive image for a teenager to be displaying.

"My mom was pretty upset though. She thinks Integra beat me up. I told her, 'Mom, Integra's my boss, not an abusive boyfriend.' But of course she doesn't believe the whole accidentally-opened-the-door-in-my-face scenario, which is a bit impudent, seeing as I've walked into street poles before." By now, she was done examining herself in the mirror and had gone back to spraying thick white cleaning foam all over the sink. "She thinks I'm making up Alucard, too."

At the mention of her master's name, Seras's back stiffened. She was very wary of Cricket having anything to do with that treacherous man. Pulling absently at the end of her stockings, she ventured further into the subject, trying to deduce if she had any suspicions. "What do you think of…Alucard, anyhow?" She wasn't used to calling him anything other than 'master'.

Cricket kneeled down, digging through a plastic blue bucket stuffed with cleaning supplies. "What do _I_ think of him? The question is what do _you_ think of him. After all, you're the one who works with him."

She sat in thoughtful silence. Just what did she think of him? Seras thought he was an extremely powerful, extremely dangerous, extremely ancient **loon. **

It took all of the self control she could muster to bite her tongue and give a civil reply. "Oh, he's…different."

This was met with a shake of the head on Cricket's part and an attempt at a snort, which came out more like a wheezing sneeze. She stood up with a sponge in her hand, waving it around emphatically as she spoke. "Different is getting Indian food instead of Chinese. Different is taking the stairs instead of the elevator. I'd say he's about ten million miles and a few detours south of different."

Such brassy remarks Seras couldn't help but admire.

"Anyhow," Cricket continued, "what do you two do, exactly?"

She had been waiting for this. Seras congratulated herself for thinking through this inevitable question beforehand, and she confidently replied, "We do special missions for Sir Integra, when the other soldiers are busy."

The girl wrung out the sudsy sponge. "Like what?"

The blonde put an adorably contemplative finger to her chin. "Oh, nothing special…Night patrol usually, just making sure nobody tries to break into the mansion." She shrugged innocently, putting up a casual guise. Well, it was casual, until she heard a familiar voice somewhere inside that blonde little head of hers, a familiar voice that made her stomach do backflips. After that, she looked just plain anxious.

_Night patrol? _The smoky voice said incredulously. _You reduce the hunting of undead vermin to night patrol?_

Cricket glanced over at the wriggling woman, quirking an eyebrow under turquoise bangs as she noted the faintly distressed look marring the buxom blonde's usually cheery face. "You really need a bazooka for guarding the mansion? Who's trying to break in, Godzilla?"

_Yes, police girl, do tell._

Seras hadn't counted on her master eavesdropping, much less making any taunting comments. This was where she had gone wrong—underestimating just how much Alucard enjoyed toying with her. Unsure of exactly what to say, she settled with keeping her mouth shut, which was an uncomfortably abnormal practice for the bubbly young woman. Out of mercy or distraction, Seras wasn't sure which, Cricket allowed the subject to drop. The other party, however, was not yet satisfied.

_You ought to get your stories straight ahead of time, _Alucard mused on. _You wouldn't want to accidentally let your little secret slip._

"I did!" She hissed through clenched incisors. "And it's our little secret, you know!" There wasn't anything she wouldn't bet that where ever he was, there was a devilish grin upon his face.

_Foolish child. What we are is no secret of mine. You may choose to carry existence as a Nosferatu as a burden, but you do so alone._

"Well it's a—"

The sudden somber bong of the clock striking twelve rang deeply throughout the manor, interrupting Seras before she could finish her retort. If she hadn't been so engrossed with her conversation, she might have noticed that the silent Cricket had been quietly listening to her whispered words.

As the clock's gonging slowly died away, the youth snapped off the foamy cleaning gloves and loaded the supplies back into the bucket. "Break time," she explained with a smile, stretching her arms out and then her legs with a pleased sigh. Then, she offered this casual question: "So I was wondering, would you and your other personality care to join me for lunch?"

Seras's face turned at least a few different shades of pink as she absorbed this little remark. First she blushed from flattery and a swell of joy at the notion of partaking in a normal, run-of-the-mill activity such as lunch, then flushed a darker color as she realized that she had been speaking out loud, and to add to her embarrassment Cricket had heard every word she uttered. In poor Seras's defense it was hard enough to converse with her master telepathically during the night, much less in the middle of the day.

How badly she wanted to say yes, yes, yes! But words simply would not form in her over excited brain. Therefore Alucard, gracious as always, nobly decided to take matters into his own cold, dead hands.

"Why yes, I'd love to," Seras found herself answering. Since when was her voice so sweet, or her words so…prim?

Cricket's smile widened to an eye-crinkling grin at the confirmation. "Well then, it's a date! There's this great little bistro-café sort of place not too far from here. By the way, for me 'lunch' is really just fifteen muffins and a chai."

She strolled out of the room as she talked, bucket in hand. Seras followed, her movements much too fluid and smooth to be her own which confused and bewildered the vampiress. What was happening to her? She was moving, but she wasn't telling herself to move…How was this possible?

Why, Alucard, of course. It was really a marvel that she didn't figure it out sooner. 'Master! Leave my body alone!' Seras cried voicelessly as she realized that he had taken control of her form.

_My, police girl, such dirty thoughts you have, _he chastised as he coolly tailed a still-chattering Cricket. Ignoring this little remark, she wailed on while struggling fruitlessly to regain control of herself. 'You've no right to kidnap me! And don't you dare do anything to my friend!'

_Silence, fledgling! _He snarled sharply, his voice a low, commanding growl. _You will do well to hold your tongue when your master speaks to you._

Out of a mixture of obedience, fear, and loyalty, Seras said nothing more, save for mumbled protests and nervous curses.

"Oh no, nothing of the sort." 'Seras' replied to Cricket's latest inquiry of whether she was a vegetarian or not. She was pulling on her shoes, tittering away with the same sunny, relaxed disposition as always. "Hehe, me neither. I'll let you in on a little known talent of mine: I can eat an entire raw steak." This claim was backed by a solemn nod. "The bloodier the better."

She smirked rather wolfishly, very un-Seras like, Cricket noted. "I whole heartedly agree."

**I got lazy with this chapter's end. I was like, "Well, I'm done, I guess I'll just stop writing." **


End file.
